


70 Smut story challenge

by Lucreace



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Bath, Blow Job, F/M, Fingering, M/M, Many of them, Oral, PWP, Sex, Transport, Water, Writing Exercise, one shots, repost, smut challenge, tumblr characters, various locations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucreace/pseuds/Lucreace
Summary: Reposting this to the right account.I found a prompt list on tumblr and decided to use it to write smut with when I feel uninspired or in the frame of mind to do so. Each Prompt is a seperate short story.





	1. Passing - One Night Stand

Passing - Our muses have a one night stand

 

He had seen her before, he never forgot a face. He knew she was significant in some way, though that he had yet to discern. As it was, he crossed his legs at the ankles and nursed a cup of tea in his huge hands. The warmth fed through to his palms and he regarded the woman with cool blue eyes. Instead of the shivering fear that he normally felt from those in his presence, he saw only warmth. Eyes the colour of honey met his, plumes of thick black hair fell behind an almost perfectly symmetrical face and a soft mouth formed into a smile. “I am afraid my mistress is not here,” she said, her voice a soft purr. “I am at your disposal according to her wishes, my name is Shari.”

“I have seen you before,” he stated. Perhaps not the most polite first words but he was in no mood for games.

The woman, if indeed that was what she was, nodded her head, “I have attended my mistress for centuries now, I have seen you before as well, though my place is usually in the shadows.” Her eyes lowered to the floor, though her smile did not leave her face. Ahriman nodded, now able to place where he had seen her. She was the one who brought drinks, who tended to the rooms in which he stayed. She was the one who made sure his needs were met while he was here, though she remained out of sight as much as she could. A nameless serving girl until now, he wondered what had changed.

He could dismiss her and sleep, he knew he was tired enough to do so. Yet he did not. She reminded him of someone; she could have been from Prospero for all he knew – she looked the part most certainly. He sipped some more of the tea and searched her face. “Where are you from?” he asked.

“A small, back-water city on a world that no longer exists,” she said. “The name of which is Korzuk.” He had never heard of it.

“What is it like there?” he asked.

“Nothing is there anymore,” she replied, “But if you wish to know what it was like before it was destroyed, then I will tell you.” He simply nodded, wanting to hear someone speak of something meaningless rather than talk in circles.

“It was no paradise Lord,” she said. He held up a hand and shook his head.

“There are no titles to be had when I am here, if you cannot use my given name, then Ahriman will suffice.” Once more, she inclined her head, a small smile on her face.

“Very well Ahriman,” she said. “It was no paradise, but it was home. It was an Agri world that served an Imperium far too vast for the inhabitants to comprehend. We said our devotions, paid our taxes and they left us alone. I grew up in a small farming community, not much more in my head than tending the fields and growing the medicinal herbs that healed our sick. I was my mother’s daughter in every sense of the word.” Ahriman let his eyes shut as she spoke, listening closely to what she was saying.

He heard the rustle of robes, caught the subtle scent of jasmine before light hands touched his shoulders. “I loved my childhood, but it all changed when the Imperium came. I do not know why they did it and I have not cared to learn afterwards. I was shoved into a ship and jetted off the planet before the Cyclone Bombs could do their work.” Her hands began working tension from his shoulders and he leaned his head forward, letting her have access to his neck as well.

“What happened to you then?” he asked.

“We, the others on the ship and I, we all thought the Imperium was going to shoot us down. Destroy us as if we were meaningless; to them we were. Yet, as we huddled there waiting, the shots did not come. Instead, our small out-dated vessel was picked up by someone else entirely.” She pressed on a rather sore spot and he grunted; her touch lightened.

“And that is how you wound up here?”

“Not straight away. I was sold, passed around if you understand what I mean, before then. I was ready for death when I ended up here. However, I was cleaned up and offered a role in keeping the place clean.” Her deft hands touched the back of his neck just below his hairline. A shiver passed through him. “I have tended my mistress’ needs since that day,” she explained. Thumbs brushed over the soft skin just below his ear next to his jaw and he let out a sigh, letting go of the tension he was feeling. He placed his now empty mug down.“It was a role that I was only too ready for. It took a great number of years but I am now chief of hand maidens and in charge of making sure everything here is in order.” His hand snapped out and caught her wrist in a tight grip, though not enough to break.

“And I am one of those things you need to ensure is in order?” he asked. She twisted her hand and brushed a thumb over his inner wrist. A smile touched his face, his pulse quickened without him being able to stop it.

“That depends what it is that needs ordering,” she said. The smile widened on his face and he released his grip on her arm. She did not do so immediately, instead her touch lingered on his inner wrist. It was an invitation, he was well versed enough to know that. Likely Shari had been told all his touch zones by Fuuko, who knew them better than most. It did not matter. It was an invitation that he was inclined to accept anyway. The first tingle of need was already buzzing through him, settling in his stomach. It was not the only reason he visited the Vault, but he would not deny that it was one of them.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he said, blue eyes turning up to her dark ones.

“Surely that depends on the question,” she replied. His smile was genuine, that sounded like something Fuuko would say. He cheated then. He used his will to push her into his lap. She let out a little squeak but soon settled, straddling his waist as best as she could. She was smaller than he but there was no reluctance in her; if there had been he’d not have proceeded. The pale grey robes she wore she had shifted so they would not get in the way, though he was sure she was wearing panties. Her hands touched the side of his face, far wider than what she was likely used to. He looked at her eyes for a long moment, searching them, wondering… and then their mouths met.

She tasted of vanilla, something subtle and more delicate, perhaps that was her natural taste. It mattered not. Her hands were in his hair, her head had titled a little and her lips parted, allowing him to take what he wanted from her. He did, he lingered at her mouth for as long as she would allow it. When she pulled her head back, her eyes dropped, “Was that what you had in mind?” she asked. “Or was there anything else I can do?”

“I did not plan to stop yet,” he said, “Nor did I want you to, however if that is your wish, we will do.” She shook her head then and leaned forward for another open lipped kiss. He did not need encouraging to respond, his tongue touched hers, light at first before claiming her mouth. The tickle of her tongue on his sent heat through him, pulling him out of the daze he had been in, allowing him to redirect the energy elsewhere. She shifted in his lap and he grunted into her mouth. Her thigh brushed against his growing erection, sparks flooded his vision. His hands fled to her hips and gripped her. The little noise she made was delightful and he smiled as they kissed.

Hands pressed against his chest as the contact continued. Her aura coloured purple and he was surprised to learn that she wanted this as much as he seemed to. Passion slipped its noose and took him with it, his hands began roaming her body as their mouths remained together. His breathing hitched as she shuffled again. She snorted a grin. “You want me?” he asked after pulling his head a fraction, “For your own sake, not because you were ordered to,” he asked.

“For my sake,” she replied. Her forehead leaned against his for a moment. “You may not have seen me all that much, but I have certainly seen you.” That brought a smile to his lips, though why she would want a monster such as he was beyond him. He was not going to complain however and he lifted his hips to prove it. It was her turn to let out a soft groan.

“Is there somewhere we can go?” he asked.

“Here is fine for me, there are rooms we can use if you would prefer,” she said. He nodded and swept her up in his arms.

“I would, show me where?” he asked. The last thing he was going to do was take this Hand Maiden while lounging on a chair. She giggled and then gestured to the door. Her black hair tickled his nose and he pressed his lips to the back of her head.

“This way,” she said. She led him out the room and down the hall. Behind the door he opened with his mind, was a simple room. He hardly paid attention to anything in it other than the bed, which was large enough to accommodate his heavy frame. Gently, he place Shari on her feet before the bed.

“I’m not going to pitch you onto it, I do not wish to harm you,” he said. Her hand slid into his and she tugged him towards the bed.

“Don’t worry,” she said. He sat down on the end of the bed and patted the space beside him. She sat down and he ran his index finger along her shapely jawline. Leaning over, he drew her mouth to his once again. Once more, her willingness to do this surprised him. He did not flinch when her hand brushed his hair away from his face. It did not take long for the contact to turn heated once more. Her hand pushed into his hair, he leaned his head back, tumbling into his back. His hand tugged her onto him; not once did their kiss break. Her touch on his chest was fire, the softness of her skin an inferno.

Her hands left his robed chest for a moment, tugged her dress up out of the way. He shifted so his robe slid open; he wore nothing underneath, he had just showered before she had turned up. Hands on his skin again, lips on his, hips pressing on him. Without thought, he pushed his hand between her thighs, felt how wet she was through her panties. The squeak she made was delicious, told him he was doing this right. Her hands tugged the last of his robe out the way, warm skin brushed the tip of his prick and he smiled. Sliding his finger back and forth along her made her pause at least. Her lips parted and she whined; her aura darkened at his attention.

Small fingers gripped his wrist, stopping him. “Let me,” she said. Looking up at her, he simply nodded and allowed her to do as she willed. She rose up on her knees, her hand touched his cock and he inhaled sharply. Pleasure erupted through him again, though it was nothing compared to what she did next. He had the vaguest impression of wet before pressure and heat took him. She had… He was…He leaned his head back and groaned as she let him get used to being there.

His hands held her hips loosely. Hers rested on his chest, steadying herself. “Are you ready?” he asked. She pressed her lips together before nodding.

“Yes, Ahzek,” she said.

He lifted his hips a fraction. She gasped and her eyes widened. “Sure?” he said.

Her nails dug into his stomach and she flicked her hips. It was his turn to inhale sharply. “Are you?” she said. The next time, she moved with him. “Like that,” he nodded. It happened again and they seemed to find a sort rhythm. She bounced when he thrust up. The pressure and heat around his cock increased with each movement they both made. Looking up at her was no help, her head was thrown back, her hair a tangle around her face. He cupped her breast with his hand, squeezing, lifting the flesh as they moved.

She kept her pace, was able to read him well considering they had never done this before. Slowing when the sensations intensified, picking up again when he needed her to. The sight of her chest moving as they both moved sent heat right to his crotch, he was unable to shut his eyes. He bucked into her, his hands fell to her hips and he held her still. The noise she made was delicious, pressure increased, she groaned deep. “Like this,” she whined. There was no holding back when she said that. His thrust with much less finesse then before, wildly, with abandon almost. The tightness on him was as a vice, her cries lost coherence and he knew she was lost.

The sucking waves on his prick were enough for him. His entire focus shank to the tip of his cock before he too cried out, his balls clenched and he released into her. For eternal seconds, he knew nothing of existence, only the rush of sensation that was her.

When he returned to himself, her fore head was leaning against his, both of them were breathing heavily. Her smile was almost as wide as his, of that he was sure. He wrapped his arms around her and gently rolled her to the side. Her lips pressed the underside of his jaw. Relaxing into the bed, he let his eyes close. “Will you stay?” he asked.

“For a while,” she replied. She wiggled a little and appeared to settle. He had no idea if this was her room or not, only that they were in it and it was enough.

“I am going to rest a while,” he said, finally acknowledging the tiredness that had swept his body for the past few months. Once again, her lips pressed his cheek.

“Do so,” she said, “I will be here for a while, now that all is in order.” Her words made him smile, the gesture was still on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

 

 


	2. Private - In the closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvus Corax/Nasturi Ephrenia

  1. Private - Our muses have sex in a closet



“Nasturi, we cannot do this!” he said. It didn’t look as though the words had any effect on the slender woman, who was already ushering him out of the corridor. She had that determined look in her eyes that informed him there would be no getting out of this. Her slender hands pressed against his broad chest and he took another step backwards.

“If you wanted this to not happen, you’d not be moving. Now move before we really are caught!” she hissed. She had a point. He took a few more steps and the closet door shut behind her. There was no light in here, but he was able to make her out simply enough. She was perfect in every way; her slender form was no longer that of the child he had grown up with. Over the past few years her body had changed into that of a strong woman. The way she looked at him had altered too.

It had taken him far too long to realise what those looks had meant. It had been even longer to react to them in any meaningful way. Of course, he had been unsure, halting even but she seemed to know what she was doing. 

“We’re going to get caught,” he said.

Her hands found his face, brushing against his cheeks, “Then we had better make sure we’re quick then,” she chuckled, “And quiet too,” she added. Lycaeus was so close to being ready. Their preparations were going perfectly and in a few short days’ time, they would be liberated. As it was though, the overlords were ever present and would beat them both soundly if they were caught in a closet not working.

Soft fingertips pushed into his shoulder length hair and he smiled down at her. He was not a smiler yet she seemed to be able to make him do so easily. He was so much taller than her yet she had no problems reaching up.

“You can kiss me now Corvus,” she prompted. She always did, he never knew whether he should or not, never knew if it would be welcome or not. He supposed it would but then again, he could never tell. “Stop thinking about it,” she said. He dismissed the roaming thoughts and did as she said. The dark was not a problem, he could see well enough and besides, he could hear her breathing.

The moment their lips touched, the spark was there. Electric, fluid and warm. Nasturi responded immediately. Her mouth parted when his tongue licked at the seam of her lips and she touched his with hers. His black eyes closed and he had to remind himself that they needed to be quiet. Reaching behind her, he locked the door just to be sure.

Maybe they could do this after all.

The stands of her hair were soft, sliding through his fingers as he stroked through the length. The scent of the rough soap they had stolen drifted passed him when he touched her hair and he breathed it in. All of it, all of her. Bending down, he deepened the kiss they shared. The subtle taste of her swamped him, overtaking every aspect of his focus. His mind stilled and all other thought was chased away. All the doubt and the uncertainty fled. His large hand held the back of her head as their explorations continued.

He felt light hands tugging at the belt at his waist and he broke the kiss. “So soon?”

“We are in a closet Crovus, we do not have long,” she whispered. There was a playful edge to her tone and he smiled. The nagging doubt brushed the back of his mind again but he swept it away, there was no time for thought! He caressed the outline of her breast with his hand as she pushed her hand into his pants.

He bit back a sharp moan.

Nasturi’s hand wrapped around his length, sharp heat flooded to his crotch in the familiar manner. They had only done this a handful of times and the way she was able to get him hard, the speed in which she did so, never failed to surprise him. His cock practically jumped in her hand and he nuzzled into her neck.

They were getting better at it too. The first time had been a disaster in his mind. She had worked him up so much that he’d completely lost it the moment she’d sank onto him. They’d brushed it off but that sting was still there. They’d tried again later and that had been better.

“Stop worrying,” she said.

“How do you always know wha-“ She silenced him with a kiss.

“I don’t need to see you to know what’s going on in your head,” she said. She gave him a squeeze and he gasped again. “Get on the floor,” she whispered.

Corvus did as she said after she let go of him. There was not a great deal of room in the closet and he had to push a mob bucket out the way before he was able to recline. He was too tall to lie flat but she seemed to have no problem sitting on his lap. Corvus swallowed and pushed errant strands of black hair from his face. “Keep quiet,” she whispered.  As if being in the dark closet that smelled faintly of cleaning product wasn’t enough of a reminder.

Her hand freed him from his pants completely then and she knelt over him. Nasturi rucked up her skirts before kneeling over him. She was so much smaller than he was that once more he was concerned that this was going to hurt her. If he ever did such a thing he would neve-

Her mouth distracted him and the next thing he knew, he was being engulfed in her welcoming, wet heat. Groaning into her mouth, he forced his hips not to buck into her. The kiss broke, “You okay?” she asked.

Reaching over to her, he cupped her cheek and nodded. Of course, she couldn’t see that, it was dark. He responded instead by lifting his hips. She was the one to grin then and they both began moving in earnest.

His hands moved to her hips, lightly holding her as she bounced on his lap. He bit his lip as the heat began to radiate outwards from the base of his spine. Slipping a hand under the coarse fabric of her skirt, he was not surprised to find she was not wearing anything underneath. He pressed his thumb into her hip, soothing the skin.

“Nasturi,” he groaned.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger on his lips. “Not so loud.”

He flicked the tip of her finger with his tongue but quietened down. Cupping her breast with his hand, he wrapped his other arm around her lower back and began thrusting into her. The coil in his belly began to tighten and he could hear her breathing become rougher. She clenched around him, he gasped. Her hand covered his mouth.

He forced his strokes to even out, to not be so erratic and desperate. It was futile, he could feel the bubbling, churning rush beginning to build and there was no preventing it. “I can’t-“ he whispered.

“Me too,” she hissed. Nasturi’s movements met his, their mouths collided, swallowing the cries they would have otherwise made. The coil sprang, the world fell away and he was rushing into her. She was all he knew in those few, desperate moments and that was perfect. As he released, she gripped him tight, sucking and tugging on his cock.

When he finally relaxed, he became aware that he was panting. His foot had nudged the mop bucket over too. No one was pounding on the door to see what had happened though so he had to assume they had gotten away with it. He kissed her. Without a care in the world, he pressed his mouth to hers, then her nose and then her cheeks. Corvus could sense the flush on her face, feel the warmth radiating from her; a deep sense of wellbeing flooding through him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him for a hug.

She began to chuckle and he frowned, “What?” he asked.

“It’s only after sex that you think of these small affections.” She kissed his forehead to show she was only teasing. They stayed there for a moment, basking in one another’s warmth before she finally pulled away. Carefully, she stood up and arranged her skirts. “Can anyone tell?” she asked.

“No,” he said. Getting up himself, he adjusted his clothing to make it look as though he had not just had sex in a closet.

“We have to leave separately,” she said. Corvus nodded and unlocked the door. Before he could escape however, she kissed him swiftly. “I will see you tonight,” she whispered. There was a flash of light and she was gone, leaving him alone in the closet with nothing more than his thoughts and a smile.


	3. Reunite - after a time apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus/Karimah

  1. Reunite - Our muses having sex after being apart for some time



They had been gone for what felt like years. It had been three months. Three months of compliance and fighting. Three months of war and grime. Three long months of being surrounded by captains who had very different ideas on how the nature of war should go. Although they did not bicker as some legions did, their constant attempts to sway him one way or the other had quickly grown tiresome. More than once, he had dismissed them and told them to form a coherent argument rather than the drivel they came out with. Even Ahriman had resorted to such low tactics.

Still, the war had been fought and most of the culture they had made war upon had been sustained. There was a host of new knowledge gained and plenty of books to learn from too. The man they had left in charge, Hurlick of the 745th was a sensible man who was very capable of ensuring the Imperial Truth would be implemented properly. The Thousand Sons could return to Prospero for a time and relax.

Magnus was very much looking forward to spending some time with Kari. She was ever a source of comfort for him and he had such stories to share with her. She would be interested in the knowledge they had gained and he even had a few trinkets for her and the girls. Those could wait however.

When he arrived home, it was dark. The children would be in bed, Kari too if he was not mistaken. It wasn’t exceptionally late, however he knew that chasing after three lively girls would keep her very busy and it was likely she would be catching up on her sleep.

The first thing Magnus did when he had dismissed everyone and was free; was poke his head around the girl’s bedroom door. They were all asleep, he could hear their soft, regular breathing and he smiled. Those three always made coming home worth it. He lingered in the doorway for a while, appreciating that they were there, simply listening as he leaned against the doorjamb. They really were a great set of girls.

Closing the door softly behind him, he then headed to the rooms he shared with Kari. He did not wish to wake her if she was asleep but he really did need to shower. That was the only problem with being on the Crusade, there were facilities to clean yourself on board ship but it did not compare to the shower he had here. He crept into the room and headed for the shower. She was asleep, not deeply but enough not to notice that he had passed by. Perfect.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, he was clean, dressed in a pair of loose pants and utterly relaxed. He also smelled far better than he had when he walked in, which could only be a blessing. For a moment, he wondered whether he should begin on the plans for the next compliance they needed to complete but he dismissed the idea entirely. Father had forced him to marry and so he would use that as the excuse if he was asked why he didn’t work immediately. Instead of going to the desk, he peeled back the light covers from the bed they shared and slipped between the sheets.

He did not intend to wake her. Of course, the bed dipped when he lay on it, he was not a small being after all, and she rolled over with a murmur. Magnus knew he could brush her mind and send her straight back to sleep again, it would have been the kinder thing to do but he hadn’t seen her in three months except through the view screen on the _Photep_ and right now, he was feeling selfish.

“Hello,” he whispered, voice feather light.

She responded with a mutter before turning over and rolling into his arms. There were no words to say, it was clear she had missed him almost as much as he had her. He wrapped her up, pulled her in and inhaled her unique scent. The dizzying rush flooded him and he let out a low hum.

“Welcome home,” she murmured as she nuzzled into the space between his shoulder and neck. Her wet lips brushed his skin and he smiled.

“You ok?” he asked. She nodded. He ran a hand over her soft hair and simply held her for a while.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Not now,” he said, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Was it bad?” Her hand brushed against his cheek and he smiled before shaking his head.

“Not at all, but right now I want to lay with you,” he said, “I missed you. I want to think of nothing but you.” She chuckled and he ran her hand over her shoulder.

“Yes, I missed you too,” she said.

Their lips brushed for the first time in three months; the spark was instant, like that first time so many years ago. He didn’t break off and nor did she. Tingling flooded from the place where they were connected, a sweet rush that left him wanting so much more. Fingers pushed into his thick hair and he smiled into the kiss, she had always loved his hair.

The light kiss broke, resuming instantly, neither wanting to part. Gentle brushing turned into longer, firmer contact until his tongue swept over the seam of her lips. She parted them and the kiss turned into something different altogether. The tingle turned into prickles that ran down his back, pooling in his stomach. The first twinge of arousal plucked at his skin and he hummed as their tongues clashed together.

Kari had never been a passive participant in their love making and that had not changed in the last three months. Her little hands pressed into his shoulders and pushed him onto his back. She followed and he leaned up to kiss her once again. It seemed that she had other ideas. Her delicate lips found purchase on his cheek, his neck and chest. His lips parted and he tried to stop the moan, without success.

“Kari,” he hissed.

“Yes?” she asked, looking up. Her dark eyes glittered in the dark and he swallowed. He found no words to say and so she resumed doing what she had been. Her teeth grazed over her his chest; he arched his back and brought his hand up to rest on her head. Her hair was so soft, the sparks that tingled through his skin were delicious. The effect on him was immediate, fiery and oh so wonderful. The movement almost knocked her off; he forced himself to relax and enjoy what sensation she was giving to him.

He only became aware of her wondering hand when it brushed against his balls though the fabric of his pants. He yelped in surprise and drew her mouth up to his for a kiss. She was smiling! Her hand palmed him, rolling and toying with his balls. His cock surged, hard, distorting his pants, the tip rubbing at the fabric which felt abrasive on the delicate skin.

“All for me?” she asked as her hand slid over the length and plunged beneath the waist band of his pyjamas.

“You know it is,” he said. The moment her fingers encircled his cock, he let the rest of the world fade away. The sensation left him dazed, overwhelmed. Where her hands weren’t, her mouth was. She kissed his chest, his neck, his stomach all while pulling on his prick. Sensation was everywhere, it left his legs shaking, his head light, as though he was about to combust. It was too much, it was not enough. He pushed a hand into her hair, the other gripped the sheet beneath him.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Let me-“ his words cut off when she shifted onto his lap. Deft hands tugged his waist band down, freeing him. Next thing he knew, she was running his cock over her very wet slit. Anticipation thrummed through him, coiling in his belly. The ache was almost painful but she granted him no release from it, instead she coated him with her fluid. “Tease,” he murmured.

“Of course,” she said. Touching her shoulder, he drew her forward to kiss her once more. Their mouths met briefly before she finally sank down onto him. Tight heat pressed around him and he grunted. The sinking sensation shot straight to his balls, they tightened, tingling beginning to press in his mind. Her little hands took his and pressed them against his chest. If they were the same size then they would have been pinned there, as it was, he allowed her to believe him subdued.

She began to move, rock up and down his hard cock. Watching her face was a treat, seeing how good this made her feel was perfect bliss. Her face twisted and changed with each thrust. Her hair was thrown back, her eyes glazed with lust, her aura the deepest purple. Magnus felt every move she made, every little twitch and clench. The moans she made, little and gasping, transferred to his prick until he was making similar noises himself. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she was when her face showed her rapture.

He bent his knees, her hand reached behind her and the tips of her fingers brushed his balls again. The contact brought the focus of the universe down to the place they were joined and he began to gently thrust back. Though they had done this countless times, he knew that too much would harm her, he never lost control with her. It did not mean that he was passive, oh no.

Fire began to build once more at the base of his prick. The tightness began to ache, he took her hands in his, letting out the moan on his lips rather than biting it back. She clenched around him, spasming and panting. Her noise mirrored his, the world focused further. “Magnus!” She called his name as though it were a prayer. One look at her pleasure-wrenched face was all it took. His balls drew up and then the rush happened. The world fell away and he was left floating. The only sensation was the one she was giving him, the squeezing of his prick and his burst into her.

It may have been seconds, it may have been minutes. When he returned to her, she was leaning her forehead against his chest, her breathing heavy and her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. Stroking her arm, he nudged the top of her head with his nose. The kiss they shared next was tender, filled with love and he could not keep the smile from his face. “I love you,” he whispered when they broke.

“I love you too,” Kari replied. The words never failed to send a shiver through him. She was perfect in every way and he would not have anyone else. He pulled her against his chest, holding her tight. Her hand rested on his shoulder and he heard her eyes shut. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he then pulled the covers over them, the temperature was rapidly dropping and he didn’t want her getting too cold. His mind was now blissfully clear from trouble and he found that he was more than glad to be home.


	4. Scratch - Rough sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abaddon/Celestine

Scratch - Our muses having rough sex

 

If she thought she could beat him, she needed to think again! It had been a very, very long time since he had sparred with anyone, let alone a woman and although he knew she was a brilliant fighter, he was sure she would not be able to beat him, even in this case. He had almost laughed off her request and told her not to bother with it. It was a sure thing, his victory that was. Still, he would not deny her the chance to try and defeat him and so he had agreed to the match in good faith.

Abaddon had arranged to meet Celestine in the practice room when they were both free. It was not a thing he usually did and he had not informed anyone else of the bout either. He has also arranged for it to be when everyone else was busy so they would not be disturbed. The last thing either of them needed was to be discovered sparring together. There were rules about such things and although he did not care about rules, he knew she did. There were some things that even he respected.

She arrived ten minutes after he did. The door opened, she hastily stepped in and shut the door behind her. It was a simple thing made of wood but it served a purpose. “You’re late,” he said. Her black hair, longer now than when they had first met, was tied behind her and he was pleased to see that she had dressed in fatigues, much as he had.

“Look, not all of us are able to bunk off and slip away when we want to,” she groused.

“Well, if you’re not in the mood for this, we can rearrange, or you can concede,” he suggested. She jerked her head up and snorted.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily Ezekyle so think again!”

He could tell from her tone that the former saint was suffering from a bad case of bad day. It was likely that the other mortals that were stranded with them had been giving her a hard time over something. It was probably the lack of decent food or something else that they had no control over. If it put the fire in her while she fought, so much the better.

“So, weapons?” he asked.

“Scared I’ll stab you in the back again?” she said as she walked over to the practice weapons they had managed to scrounge up. There were a few wooden swords and something that might be an axe.

“Always,” he said. He still had the scar to prove she had done it the first time.

She picked up one of the swords and tossed him another. Catching it, he jerked his head to the designated space for practicing. They were in a cave; there was no getting away from that. The digging they had done since declaring this the place they would call home was remarkable. This cavern was just one of the ones they had created. It was not large, but they had managed to cover the floor in sand, making it better to train on than the hard floor. The mortals used this too after all and they were somewhat softer than the remaining astartes.

“Ready when you are,” he said. She swished the sword a couple of times before lunging. Ezekyle blocked the blows with ease, stepping backwards and pressing advantages when he saw them. She was good; he was better. As he knew he should be. Celestine was not letting go however. The second time he pitched her on the floor, she got up and huffed. “Are you going to start trying now?” he asked.

The frown on her face deepened into anger; he smirked. “I’ll show you!” she huffed.

“Good,” he said raising the blade once again.

This time, it took longer. Her blows were heavier, faster and she was moving with him too. When he stepped back, she pressed the advantage, when he moved forward, her blows quickened. She even managed to catch his forearm with a sharp rap. The sting was more to his pride than anything else and he nodded, “Keep at it,” he nodded.  Her blows increased in pace and he found that a sheen of sweat began to form on his shoulders and chest. Perhaps she was better than he gave her credit for.

The match lasted four minutes. It ended with her back against the cavern wall and panting. “Better,” Ezekyle said as he pressed against her, “But not enough.”

She slapped him; he grinned widely. “You’re so arrogant!” she huffed. “I always hated that about you.”

“Not the only thing you hated,” he said. She slapped him again. He dropped the practice sword, it clattered to the floor. Their eyes locked, her dark ones searching his golden ones, unchanged despite everything that had happened. She was tall, for a mortal, but he was taller. He could feel her heat through the fabric of their clothes, her heart thudded, sweat already trickled down her back and he could smell the tang on the air.

This time, when she went to hit him, his hand caught hers and he pressed it back against the wall, “Do I get to do that back now?” he asked.

“Go fuck yourself Ezekyle!” she snapped.

“Why? When I can fuck you instead?”

His hands slipped to her rump and he hoisted her up, her legs wrapped around him and he used the wall to support her. Celestine dug her nails into the meat of his shoulders, her eyes narrow, “Not what I had in mind,” she said.

“I’ll be gentle,”

“Please don’t.”

Their lips crashed together then, as they had done several times before. It still had the feeling of being new, dangerous and illicit. No one else knew; they’d not understand how the two of them had changed from worst enemies to passionate lovers in a handful of weeks. Thoughts for another time, right now, he was far more interested in plundering her mouth. Sharp teeth nipped his lip and he growled. Her tongue swept over the injury and her hands held his head still. Seems like she had suffered a terrible day.

He was more than willing to be kissed. Their teeth clashed and when he tried to pull back, she didn’t let him. He hummed instead. Using one hand to support her, he pinched her breast with the other. She squeaked into his mouth and cuffed the side of his head. Her fingers slipped to the armour port at the base of his neck, a spot she liked to touch and she twisted her head to the side, deepening the kiss. They turned, battled and strove for dominance, neither giving in, neither winning out.

When she broke the kiss, she was breathless, cheeks flushed and utterly beautiful. He tugged at her hair binding, letting black waves free. The scent of it, fruity and light, filled the air. Pushing his hands though those tresses, he lifted his hips to hers. “Just from kissing?”

“All it ever takes with you,” he growled. She pushed her hips down on his prick and he grunted. “Here? Now?”

Her reply was another cuff around the head, “Don’t be obtuse.” Her hand slid between them and squeezed his erection. He groaned and took a small step back. “Now!” she said firmly. They sank to the floor in unison, lips met as hands fumbled with the other’s belt and pants. She was more nimble than he; her hand stroked him while he finished pushing her pants over her hips.

He broke the kiss, placed his hands on her hips and turned her around so that his chest pressed against her back. Positioning her inside his thighs, he leaned over her and bit her shoulder. The noise she made as a mix of pain and pleasure. She did try and swat him but failed to reach. Running his cock along her wet slit, he sucked on her earlobe, “Tease,” she hissed.

“Yes,” he hummed.

“Now Ezekyle, don’t make me beg.”

He didn’t. A quick shift of his hips and wet heat swamped his prick. His lips parted and he heard her hiss. There was no time to settle, no let up. She had asked and so he would deliver. Her hands clenched in the sand beneath them, he leaned over too and began moving. He didn’t start of gently either. Large sweeping thrusts rocked her forward. Her black hair was flung over one shoulder and already she was beginning to pant. He could reach her neck, run his teeth over her flesh. The taste of her sweat lingered on his tongue. He snapped his hips forward and she hissed. “Like that,” she said.

He had no problem doing so. It felt so wet, so tight, so hot. She was perfect in every way, the noises she made and how she clenched and – AH! Like that. His hands came to rest in the sand beside hers, she rocked back up against him; he could hear the breath leaving her, feel her heart pounding, thudding along in the same way he was thrusting into her. Turning her head, she kissed him sloppily, sparks running from their mouths to his crotch when their tongues touched.

Breaking the contact, he grunted when she clenched. His own breathing was becoming irregular and he knew she was close. She writhed and squirmed, bucked and tightened in waves around his prick as he moved. “Ezekyle!” she gasped. The first throes of her passion taking her. She clenched and squealed and moved in the way that set him off. His hands covered hers and he squeezed her fingers before his world began to spiral out of control. He was so close, so fucking close.

She bucked. He hissed.

The world turned black and his thrusts turned feverish. Seconds later, he was spilling into her, cock pulsating as her orgasm massaged him. It was bliss, the best feeling he’d ever had.

When he returned to himself, they were both panting. Her chest was heaving but when she threw him a look over her shoulder, she was grinning. She gave him a final squeeze and he groaned at her. “Now who is the tease?” he said. Celestine chuckled and shifted so she could wrap her arms around him. The embrace was returned and for a long moment, they simply remained there in each other’s arms.

“Feel better?” he asked. She nodded. Looking up, she brushed delicate fingers over his forehead, where the mark had once been. She had a habit of doing that. He kissed her again then, deep yet tender.

“I should go,” she said when he broke off. He loosened his hold on her and they both got to their feet. Quickly adjusting their clothing, both of them were presentable once more. He reached out and touched her hand before she got to the door. “See you soon,” she said.

“Tomorrow,” he nodded. She squeezed his fingers, dropped his hand and opened the door. She nodded and was gone. Ezekyle smiled, satisfied and content for the time being at least.

 

 

 


	5. Dream - sexy dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abaddon/Celestine

  1. Slumber - One muse has a sex dream about the other



 

She had stabbed him in the back. The ache in his spine had not completely gone away and although the wound had healed, he knew the ghost pain would never go away. Not completely. Khayon had said he was being foolish, it was an echo nothing more and would be soon gone if he stopped dwelling on it. It seemed that the damned woman had done more than got under his skin.

Although the campaign had been a mix of success and failure, the mood on board the _Vengeful Spirit_ was higher than it had been in months. They had returned ‘home’ to resupply and consider their next move. Morianna had been particularly insistent that they do this and this time, he had listened. Eye Space had spread, the road along the Crimson Path had taken a huge step in the right direction and they were content for the moment.

Except for the niggle in his lower back.

Perhaps sleep would cure it. It had been days since he had slept, weeks perhaps. The return to Eye Space had been fraught with danger and he had been awake through all of it. When he thought about it, Ezekyle realised that he was exhausted. As the arming servitors dealt with removing the terminator armour, he found his eyes growing heavy with the lack of sleep. Maybe it was closer to months than weeks.

When he fell into the large bed that had once been Horus’, he was asleep in moments.

***

He jumped when there was a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, a pair of large, dark eyes met his. An open smile greeted him and he tilted his head. A small hand slipped into his and tugged him forward. “You promised me.”

“When?” he barked, taking a step regardless of the answer that came. Black hair bounced as she walked him to the open floor.

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged and placed a hand on her narrow waist. She was so slender, so small and yet so fierce and powerful too. She stretched up and placed her hand on his shoulder and then slowly, they began to move. The music that was drifting about the large dance hall at a languid pace and their dance followed the same pattern. Ezekyle found that instead of wanting to raid the food tables and the punch bowls, he was rather enjoying dancing instead. Celestine knew what she was about and somehow, he managed to not step on her toes or bump her in an ungainly manner. He was no dancer, he knew that. He was not a graceful mover but somehow, he managed.

There was no sense of time, the music kept on and they just moving together. The light began to fade and although they were in the middle of a dance floor, he discovered they were completely alone. No one else was there. He was pretty sure there should be other people around, seeing how this was a dance but they seemed to be absent. She didn’t seem overly bothered about that at least so he made no mention of it either.

The pace of the song dropped and she stepped a little closer. Her head leaned on his shoulder as their movements devolved into simple swaying. He could feel the heat coming from her small body through the dress she was wearing and he looked down at the top of her head. She had shut her eyes and there was a soft smile on her sweet face.

What he did next was likely going to get him slapped. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and breathed in her scent, “Ezekyle?” she asked; her voice dream-like. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m not sorry,” he said.

“But I stabbed you.”

“So?”

“So why do that?” she asked. She had turned her face to look up at him; her dark eyes glittered in the light. She asked a good question; why had he done that? There were hundreds of reasons, all of which flooded through his mind in seconds. Which would he tell her? That she was beautiful? No, too mundane. That she was sexy? No, too demeaning. That she was the bride of the enemy and that he wanted to deflower her? No, too crude. Maybe the simplest of truths would do in this situation.

“Because I want you,” he said.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words were forthcoming. Seeing no reason not to, he bent down and caught her mouth in a kiss instead. Next thing he felt was her palm on his cheek. It wasn’t a slap however, it was a gentle touch. Her lips parted and he brushed his tongue over hers before breaking the contact. There was a slight pout on her face and she tilted her head a little, “You stopped?” she asked.

“Yes, this isn’t the right place,” he said with a shake of his head.

“We’re in my home, my room Ezekyle,” she said. He looked around and found that she was right. But they were just… He dismissed the thought and returned his attention to the needy looking woman in his arms. Her eyes were dancing, her cheeks were pink and she had sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Ezekyle cursed. Pushing his hand through her thick, dark hair, he drew her mouth back up to his.

Her subtle flavour flooded his senses once again. There was an overtone of punch, fruit that she had eaten too but there was an undertone of something else, something sweet and delicious. He decided that it must be her natural flavour. She hummed as his tongue laced over hers, pushed herself up against his large form and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. Her hot fingers seared his skin, his hands dropped to her waist, almost encircling it with his huge hands. She pushed her hips up against his; his cock jumped at the added pressure and he groaned.

“What’s this?” she purred.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you,” he said. There was no embarrassment about that, he had told the truth and it seemed as though she wasn’t overly bothered. Celestine took a tiny step back and looked down at the front of his pants. The bulge at the front of his duty fatigues was obvious and she raised an eyebrow.

“So I see,” she said. Her light hand brushed over the outline of his cock and he sucked in a breath. His prick twitched as she pressed the palm of her hand against it, red shot through him as a sharp spike of desire hit him. His breath quickened and his hearts pounded in his chest. Watching her hand, she tugged at the fly of his pants before slipping her hand down the front. Her soft hand brushed the base of his cock and his lips parted.

“Let me touch you,” he whined, aware that his usually deep voice was thinner than it should be. She smirked and shook her head. With her hand around his cock she walked them backwards. His legs hit the back of the bed and he tumbled onto it. He thought it would have hurt, however when they landed, neither of them were dressed anymore. Then she began stroking him. Back and forth along his length, maddeningly slow. Wrapping his hand around hers, he showed her how to touch him properly.

She leaned down, resting next to him and he caught her lips again. The kiss did not last long; he was far too distracted for that, however tasting her was divine. Trying not to thrust into her hand, he focused on her. His eyes were open, he watched as she touched him, watched as her supple breasts bounced as she moved. Her flat stomach was moving as she did. Reaching up, he cupped one of her breasts, covering it entirely with his palm. Soft skin moved as he squeezed. He heard her sharp intake and her hand squeezed him in response. He jerked and a bead of moisture pooled at the tip. Her thumb spread it over his head and he groaned.

“Keep that up and we’re done,” he whispered. He nipped at the lobe of her ear, emphasizing his point.

Her hand moved to his shoulder and he rolled onto his back. Celestine moved to straddle his waist; he could smell her, she was as turned on as he was! Wetness teased his tip, his hands fell to her hips and he held her in place. “Let me,” she hissed.

He bucked his hips upwards, pushing into her wet heat. Slick, clenching wetness engulfed his hard prick and he grunted with the heat. He heard a similar noise escape her mouth. Damn. That felt great. Better than great. His let go of her hips and she slid down his length. Her hand came to rest on his stomach and their eyes met. For a moment, they were still, only the sound of their breathing echoed around the room.

Then they both moved together. He lifted his hips as she ground down against him. Both of them gasped. Looking up at her was quite a sight, a hand moved to palm her breast once more. Slowly, they found a rhythm that suited them both. The ebb and flow of her hips matched his languid thrusts. The idea that he was inside her and she wasn’t trying to kill him was novel in itself! Moving a hand to the back of her head, he pressed his mouth to hers, shoving his tongue past her lips and tasted her completely.

She was the one to break the kiss when he bucked up a little more forcefully. Her breathing turned ragged. When he slid his hand down her back, she was damp. She leaned forward, her weight on her hands. Breasts brushed his broad chest and her movements began to lose consistency. She clenched around him, a light spasm. The noise that followed was musical.

The sensation of her bouncing up and down his length was like nothing he had felt before. Her hand grabbed the knot of hair on his head and yanked it. He yelped, more in surprise than anything else. Tightness coiled at the base of his abdomen, his balls drew up close against him. He knew what was about to happen. He tried to slow his movements, wanting this to last a bit longer, not wanting this to end.

She was having none of that. Reaching her hand around behind her, she cupped his balls and kneaded them as she moved. Groaning, he jerked into her. Ezekyle’s world narrowed to a single focal point. The squeeze of her around him was the last he could take. His lips parted and he grunted as the tension unravelled.  He was pretty sure he swore in his native tongue as he released into her. The spasms wracked his form and he was vaguely aware of her crying out too; she was saying his name.

When the sensation began to recede, he opened his eyes. She was the first thing he saw, smiling down at him. He returned the smile, sated and sweaty, just as she was. “That was…”

Her finger rested on his lips and he trailed off. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his mouth before slipping from his waist and coming to lie alongside him. “Thank you,” she said.  A wave of weariness washed over him then and he suppressed a yawn. He heard her breathing begin to even out beside him and he knew that sleep was already beginning to claim her. His body was feeling rather numb too; sleep would soon claim him as well. Wrapping an arm around her, he snuggle against her naked back, letting himself drift off.

***

Khayon yawned. He was as tired as the Boss was if he was going to be honest with himself and sending dream suggestions without being obvious about it was always hard work. Running a hand over his face, he focused on the occulus before him. He was not in the habit of sending dreams, especially erotic ones, to those he knew however this infatuation was not to be encouraged. Perhaps now, they would be able to move on and refocus on achieving the rest of their goal. He sighed; he had to hope!


	6. Speed - Quick sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahriman/Fuuko

Speed - Our muses have a quickie

 

Why she had scheduled an entire day of meetings, Fuuko has no idea. She knew it had been a mistake the moment the first supplicant had begun speaking. Instantly, she had become bored. Oh she had listened, she had passed judgement on those who had offended her and she had offered suggestions when it was warranted, but she was bored. Being bored was not a natural state for her either, it was a dangerous state to be in; ask any of her Warband and they would confirm that with dark nods and bleak looks.

Hiding the fact she was bored had never been an easy task either. Try as she might, Fuuko was unable to sit still. The throne was comfortable; she was not. Instead of twisting and turning in it, she took to fussing with her hair. Curling a black lock around her finger, she tried to focus on what was being said. Something about a ship being downed and then rescued and then recovered and repopulated in her name. She knew she should be listening and grateful that she no longer had to see to these matters personally, but it was so damned boring!

When Ahriman walked in, dressed not in the usual cobalt power armour but a set of duty robes, she could have cheered. It looked as though he had taken time to freshen up after arrival; something she would appreciate later on. His black hair was unbound and she could tell even from this distance that he had washed it. His dark brown eyes met hers and a smirk tugged the corner of her mouth. His timely arrival presented an opportunity that might prove a welcome distraction and cure her of this horrific boredom. There was a slight, almost imperceptible nod of his head and then he was sat down at a nearby table.

She tried not to just sit there starring at him but it was rather a tall order. He had the most alluring dark eyes, toffee coloured skin and thick black hair. As far as she was concerned, he was put together exceptionally well; she already knew that and yet she found that she wanted to learn that all over again. It was his arms, the shape of them were incredibly –

“Mistress?”

She blinked and turned her attention to the speaker. It was Yosker. He had been one of her advisors for some years now and although she was usually patient with him, his words were lost on her.

“What did you say?” she asked. She twirled a lock of her dark hair around her finger and turned her gaze to the pale, thin speaker. He repeated herself and she nodded. “Yes, that outcome will be perfect,” she said. No wonder she had drifted off, that had been what to do with several supplicants – a matter that was usually beneath her attention entirely.

The talk resume and she returned her attention to casually perusing Ahriman. He hadn’t seemed to notice at all; that had to change. A small smirk crossed her red lips and she sent him a little reminder of the last time they had parted. Ahriman shifted. To his credit, he didn’t look around at her message. Did his cheeks darken? She couldn’t be so sure. Pressing her lips together, she then placed a suggestion in his head.

Their eyes locked over the table. She smirked.

The anticipation of feeling his hands on her all over again warmed her blood; a shudder shot through her, one she was unable to supress. Suddenly, she began paying attention to what Yosker was saying.

The image of a toffee coloured hand pressing into a hard, robe covered bulge flashed through her mind. Oh! Well then! Two could play this game! Taking a look around to see if anyone had noticed – they hadn’t – she sent something back. Ahzek suppressed a cough this time and her smirk widened. That hadn’t been that bad as far as she knew, a simple image of what she had seen while underneath him coloured with the purple.

It seemed as though he got her message well enough. What he sent back told her more than enough. This time, she was the one to make a squeak.

“I think we need to take a short break,” Yosker said. “We could all use a moment to refocus, we’ll come back in fifteen minutes,” he said. She gave the man a nod, aware that her lack of attention had been noticed. Chairs scuffed the floor as they were pushed back and the hum of conversation erupted into the air. Fuuko did not move. Neither did Ahzek. Good.

The moment the room was empty and the door shut behind the last person, she was on her feet. Ahzek met her half way. It had been a while since their last parting, however it was as if no time had passed at all. Their mouths met, lips parted and tongues clashed. Her hands swept over his shoulders as he pulled her close.  Those arms! Warm and strong. The shape of them; the feel of them around her once again. She hummed into the kiss, his distinct, sweet taste flooding through her once more.

She leaned backwards as he bent over her, his hands sliding to her thighs. Before she knew it, her bum was hitting the table, “We don’t have long,” she said as his hands rucked up her robes. She could see the distortion at the front of his and ran the tips of her fingers over it. It bobbed under her touch.

“Long enough,” he rumbled. His voice usually had the lilt of Tizca to it, however now it was thick with lust. The tips of his fingers brushed over the wet apex of her thighs and her lips parted. The underwear she was wearing was already soaked through; a gasp left her when he tugged them to the side. “I wanted to take my time,” he used his other hand to lift the robes he wore. “But your teasing put a stop to that.” She reached up and pushed her hand through his thick locks of hair. Tightening her fingers, she yanked the roots. He winced.

“I was bored,” she whimpered. She watched as he pushed the fabric of his underwear out the way and stepped forward. Next thing she felt was the pressure of his tip at her entrance.

“I know.” He didn’t speak again, instead thrust forward. The sensation of fullness rocked through her. Her hand tightened in his hair before descending to pat his cheek. Both his hands crashed onto the table beside her head and he began to thrust.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, her hands resting on his huge biceps, she moved with him. One look at his face told her this was not going to last. The heat of having him inside her again brewed instantly. Knowing they might be walked in on at any moment added another layer of excitement. She could picture the scandalous look on Yosker’s face if he knew what they were doing to his beloved table.

A tingle in the back of her mind drew her attention back to Ahzek and she smirked, “What have I told you about that?” she purred. A tremor passed over his face, a flash of passion and he grunted.

“Not got time to do this properly,” he replied.

Her hands flew to his face and she drew him in for a deep kiss. His sweetness was like a drug; she needed more and more of him to keep her satisfied. The Tizcan was one hell of a kisser! His tongue worked some sort of magic on her mouth while his pace worked wonders on her body. Her mind, well that was being touched by the illicit touch of his thoughts. He found the right spot and her entire body clenched. A harsh gasp escaped her lips, “Ahzek!” she barked.

“Yes?” he said. He did not slow, the dull thud of their bodies meeting echoed around the room. Her pants turned into groans. She gripped his arms and their eyes locked together. His lips parted. This time their kiss was rushed, hurried. His stroked lost consistency and he leaned his forehead on hers. The clench in her solar plexus ran all the way down to the pit of her stomach, sharp and insistent. He touched her mind as he let out a deep, guttural cry. It was enough. Her world was consumed by purple; her vision turned violet. She clenched and writhed beneath him, felt him release into her with a shout that might have been her name.

He was panting. His breath echoed off her face and she smirked up at him. She was about to press another kiss to that sculpted mouth of his when she heard something. Abruptly, he took a step back and smoothed the front of his robes. She pushed hers down too and sat up, though her focus remained on him. The air reeked of their combined release but there was nothing they could do about that right now. The door opened. Ahzek took a little step back, “So, I can count on a round or so later?” he asked.

“As long as you bring some of your latest wine,” she purred. Fuuko ran her hand over his shoulder and down his arm.

“Of course,” he said inclining his head. The gesture of respect was somewhat lost due to the flush on his cheeks and the smirk on his face. She turned and made her way back to her throne, truly savouring the tingle spreading between her thighs. She did not miss the scandalised look on Yoskar’s face as he caught on to what had happened. At least now she had something to look forward to later on! The room filled up again and the meeting resumed, this time she managed to pay a bit more attention.

 


	7. Nature - Outdoor sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasturi/Corax

  1. Nature - Our muses having sex outside



This was not the first world they had conquered, far from it. It was one of the nicest however. The population had not resisted, instead greeted them with open arms and warm smiles. The discussions had been short; the people of Kiniea had fully embraced the Imperial Truth and celebrations had run on for ten days now. Corvus saw no reason to make a hasty departure either. The Legion had pushed hard up until this point and it was a good idea to get some rest and relax while they could. Most of them were down on the planet and enjoying the parades and the hospitality.

Corvus had found it overwhelming. The parades were loud, vibrant and he struggled to understand why they all wore huge hats and masks. He had excused himself from the latest celebration and found a quiet spot in the park. He had secluded himself in a wooded area and sat beneath a huge willow tree. The branches hung low and he’d found a moment of peace and solitude in amongst the business of the day. He’d watched the sun set from beneath the branches, watched the moon rise while he leaned against the trunk of the tree. It wasn’t uncomfortable and his mind had calmed. The rising sensation of panic had receded and he felt as though he could face more time with these vibrant people.

The branches of the tree were pushed aside and he looked up. He’d already worked out who it was seeking him out and he welcomed her company. Through all the hub-bub and confusion, she was a calm. The ebb and flow of the crowd would crash against her as though she were a rock. Her blonde hair was pushed back from her face, over one shoulder and he smiled. “I thought I would find you here,” she said. Her blue eyes glittered in the moonlight and he could smell the light perfume she wore from where he was sat.

“Nasturi,” he said.

She padded over, the grass rustling under her feet. “I thought I would find you here,” she said. He watched as she bent down and sat beside him. The dress she wore had been gifted to her by the Kiniean people, who had deemed their uniforms too sombre for this celebration. She was dressed in vibrant green, a colour she had chosen. It was a rare thing, such fine fabric and he knew she would keep that dress for as long as she lived. Such colours just weren’t available on Deliverance.

“I couldn’t-“

“Corvus, you don’t have to explain, I know why you’re here,” she said.

“Part the reason why I adore you,” he said. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he let out a small sigh, content rather than frustrated.

“Oh? What about the other?”

“What?”

“The other part of why you adore me,” she said. He could hear the smile on her face and he pressed thin lips together. Turning to look at her, he brushed an errant strand of her hair from her forehead and thought for a moment.

“You look good in green,” he said.

“And…?”

“You put up with me being an awkward ass,” he said.

“You’re not an ass,” she said. She took his hand and placed it against her cheek, “But you are awkward,” she said before twisting and kissing his palm. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and sighed.

“People are-“

“Hard work, I know Corvus. It wasn’t a criticism,” she said. Her beautiful eyes met his, blue meeting black. His hand was stark against her flushed skin. He wondered whether she had been drinking. He couldn’t smell it on her. She was so small but he knew she was far from fragile. She was older now, not enough to be showing it but her mind was different. Gone were the days of sneaking off into closets and snatching moments when they thought no one was looking. He was surer too, around her at least.

He searched her eyes, wondering. “What is it?” she asked.

It was a familiar routine, the awkwardness never left but she never called him  out on it, never questioned or berated him either. He flicked his gaze to her mouth and back again before he leaned in and pushed his dry lips against hers. His hand slipped to the back of her head and he held her as they kissed. As always, his cares fell away; she was his entire focus.

She was the one to break the kiss, “I adore you because you let me kiss you,” he said. That made her chuckle. Her little hand touched his chin and for a brief moment, he was taken back to younger, simpler days. Her mouth bumped his again, chaste to start with, becoming something more. The tingle was familiar, comforting and he leaned his head into hers. Her tongue flicked against the seam of his lips and he parted them, allowing her the access she wanted.

Her little hum at the spark that fired between them was all he needed. He gently lifted her onto her lap, his arm wrapping around her waist. The kiss never broke. Her tongue licked and sucked on his, dancing and tangling in the patterns that was so familiar. She settled around him, legs resting on his. She pulled back. Her hands caressed the side of his face and he smiled up at her. “How long has it been since we did this outside?” she asked.

“Too long,” he said.

She pushed down on his lap and although he knew what she was up to, he let out a breathy hiss. “Oh, what’s that Corvus?” she asked. The tease in her tone was unmistakable. He pressed his hands on her hips. The moonlight reflected off her glossy hair and he could see the smile on her face almost as clear as if it were day.

“You were always insufferable,” he said.

She yanked the green fabric out from between them before pressing a swift kiss to his forehead. “No one will know,” she said. She took his hand and placed it between her legs, “It’s been too long.” Her mouth moved over his face, finding that spot on his collarbone that heightened the tingle flowing through him already. Feeling her heat through the thin fabric of her underwear, he slid his finger under the waist band and did as she had silently requested. Her soft skin, her slick lips… she was all he could smell, her musk filled the air.

“Fuck,” she shivered as he pressed against her sensitive spot. Her hands began to fumble with the buckle of his black pants – he had forgone the bright colours offered on the grounds they had no clothes that fit him. She had always been a feisty woman and that had not changed.

He lifted his hips as he kissed her again, allowing her the room she needed. Her deft fingers slid around his prick and he gasped into her mouth. The fact that she still wanted to do this always surprised him. He was content for her to take charge too. Stroking quickly, he was hard and aching for her in moments. Her other hand pushed coal black hair from his eyes and he gave her a breathy grin. “You want me?” she asked.

“I adore you because you’re a tease,” he said. “Yes, you know I want you,” he added, knowing she would make him say it f he neglected to do so now.

“Kiss me,” she said. He did. This time, it was no brushing of their mouths, this time he met hers with open lips. Tongues crashed together as he let his passion for the woman on his lap show. Static rushed through, clenching his solar plexus as he wrapped his tongue around hers, sliding and slipping against her. He was vaguely aware of her lifting her hips, then she was sinking onto him.

Corvus knew he was larger than she was and these first moments were always slower. She wiggled, it felt as though she was trying to squeeze him into her. Her lips parted and it looked as though she was concentrating hard on something. “Keep still,” she said when he shifted. Slowly, she pushed down until she was simply sliding down him. The melting sensation rocked through him, the grunt that left him very real.

“Are you?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. Her fingers brushed his neck and she leaned forward to kiss him, swift and needy before she began to move her hips. Corvus didn’t like being passive and so he moved with her gently. He knew how much of him she could take and what would hurt. He did not want to hurt her, never. She was too precious for that. He did reach up and press his lips to the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder and was rewarded with a hot gasp. She had several points that made her do that but this was the only one he could reach currently.

Fluid flowed down his cock as she wiggled back and forth on his lap. Watching her take her pleasure from him was enough. “Touch me,” she whispered. Unable to resist her, his thumb found her clit and rubbed it in circles as she moved. She gasped and hitched. Every movement she made transferred to him and despite his lack of movement; he felt the static charge begin to build.

A light sheen of sweat built on Nasturi’s skin, her scent filled the air. That was something far more arousing than she knew. He let out a soft, keening noise, almost a whimper as she picked up her pace. In the pale moonlight, he could see her expression change from arousal to bliss. Somehow he always managed to do that to her. He had no idea how. She laid her forearm on his shoulder, her nails biting into the flesh of his back. “Come on, love,” she whispered under her breath. She was panting now, eager and wanting. He thought about picking her up and holding her against the trunk of the tree to finish off but found there was not time. She was already beginning to twitch.

The fire in his solar plexus flooded his body the moment she began to unravel. He was going to come! For a moment, panic flooded him, what if it was too soon? What if she wasn’t finished with him? What if it wasn’t enough? He stopped worrying the moment his balls drew up and the world fell away. Nasturi never judged him. Never. A couple of thrusts and he was lost.

He caught the tail of her orgasm when he returned from his. She was leaning her forehead against him, her breathing irregular and sharp. For a moment he wondered if he had hurt her. Already, she was shaking her head, as if she knew what he was thinking. A hand brushed his hair away from his face and he opened his eyes, smiling at her. “Far too long,” she said.

Kissing her was something he never grew tired of. He did so again, a long, slow gesture that was tender and full of the feeling her felt for her. He followed it up with a swift one. “I adore you, because you let me make love to you,” he said softly.

She tucked her head under his neck and they stayed that way for a long time. His body heat prevented her from getting cold. Words were not really needed; their bodies had said everything they needed. The moon was just kissing the horizon when she stirred from the light doze that had stolen her away. It had been a most peaceful night; however they should be getting back. The Crusade was going to come calling for them very soon and there was no call to be found wanting. It was with great reluctance that they stood and left the sanctuary of the willow tree.

 

 

 


	8. Mouth - Oral sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hathor/Ahriman

Ahzek was asleep, peaceful and deep, for a change. He had not been friends with sleep since his twin’s passing several years back but this night was different. It was the first time he had slept in the arms of another man. He had been sure none of the other Captain’s would care; he and Hathor had always been close but since Ohrzmund’s passing, that bond had only deepened. Last night had been the first time they’d shared intimacy together and he had fallen asleep content and warm.

He was slowly brought out of sleep when a wet, warm sensation pooled around his crotch. For a horrid moment he thought he might have pissed the bed but the rising panic evaporated when he heard a soft moan. +Don’t fret+ Hathor pulsed. +Enjoy this as I am+

Hathor’s mouth had engulfed his dick and in the haze of half sleep, Ahzek could do nothing to resist the attention; nor did he want to. Aware now that the ache in his crotch was arousal, he relaxed and let himself enjoy Hathor’s tongue as it ran over the tip of his cock. Tips of fingers brushed against his balls, rubbing at the sensitive skin in time with the motion on his prick.

Heat brewed in the base of his stomach. No, that was a lie, he had known that was there before he had woken. It intensified, along with the pressure Hathor was putting on his cock. The lapping and the gentle back and forth suckling made him sigh. Ahzek was sure he had never been this hard before. He pushed a hand below the covers and rested it on the top of Hathor’s head. He could feel the puff of his breath on his thighs, the scent of him seemed to invade his every sense and the pleasure he was feeling right now was beyond comprehension.

His head was spinning with the overwhelming sensation of hot breath on his prick. His balls jumped and twitched under Hathor’s delicate hand and the swirl of his tongue over his head once more had a small surge of moisture flow down his shaft. He thought of apologising but it soon became irrelevant. Hathor lapped it up regardless.

+I’m close+ he sent, the thought touched with a hint of embarrassment.

+So you should be+ Hathor sent back. Ahzek was sure there was a smug expression on his face now that he knew that. His thoughts evaporated when another sweep of Hathor’s tongue touched his tip. His throat seemed to close and the clench in his solar plexus hurt. His leg jerked and his breath hitched. Hathor’s hand circling the base of his cock jerked back and forth with his mouth. Ahzek cried out. The rush of fluid leaving his balls was accompanied by deep spasms in his prick. Awareness faded for a few, brief moments.

When it returned, he was breathing hard and his entire body tingled with the rush. Hathor had crept back up and was kissing him hard. Hands tangled in his hair and the press of his partner’s erection on his thigh was insistent. Ahzek pushed his hand beneath the cover once more and gripped it firmly.

+You don’t have to…+ Hathor’s thought cut off as Ahzek set a rough pace, sensing Hathor’s already heightened arousal. It did not take long. He jerked into his hand a couple of times before filling it with warm fluid. Hathor relaxed into the covers beside him then, breathing as hard as he was. Glowing in a similar manner too, if his aura was anything to go by.

“That is a good way to start the day,” Ahriman mused before kissing Hathor’s temple, grateful for the experience and resolving to return it some time.

 


	9. Wet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konrad Curze/Fuuko - pre Crusade on Nostramo

  1. Wet - Our muses have sex while submerged in water (tub, pool, etc.)



She was in the bath. Again. What was that even about? Here he was, wrapped in the only towel that had been left – it barely covered his hips let alone anything else – waiting to get into the bathroom that was occupied by a priestess with a fascination for being far too clean. Well, he wasn’t having any of this! Certainly not. These were _his_ rooms, it was _his_ bathroom and if she wanted to use them, fine but there was no way he was going to be denied their use in the meantime.

Konrad barged in.

Large dark blue eyes widened as the door banged against the frame before crashing shut. It wasn’t quite hanging off the hinges. “Are you done?” he barked.

Fuuko caught his eyes and shook her head. “No,” she said. She had the nerve to sink lower into the tub as if that would emphasise how unfinished she was.

“Shame,” he snorted. “You look like you’re clean enough already, wrinkled and white!” She did not grace that with a response.

 Steam had already filled the air and misted up the mirrors, letting him know that she had been in here ages; he was surprised that she wasn’t more shrivelled up, like a prune. Snatching the towel from around his waist, he ditched it onto the floor without ceremony and stepped into the huge tub. Fuuko continued to ignore him.

He was filthy, his hair hung in lank strands, plastered to the side of his face with the grime and muck from several day’s work. His skin was no cleaner; dust and dirt cling to him where he’d not worn armour. Grinning, he realised that he was making a total mess in Fuuko’s bath and for some reason that pleased him.

“Shift your legs then,” he growled. She did as he said which allowed him room to crouch down and sink into the welcoming embrace of the hot water. The surface rocked and sloshed around but none was spilled. Folding his arms over his chest, he sat there and wondered what all the fuss was about. He had intended to just take a shower and leave but seeing her sat there as comfortable as she was, he wanted to see what the appeal was. So far, he wasn’t seeing it.

She threw him a bar of soap.

Catching it, he held the slippery bar in his hand and raised an eyebrow at her. “When you’re done with that, I’ll wash your hair,” she said.

“I can do it on my own,” he said.

“Suit yourself,” she said.

He then began running the soap over his arms, scrubbing off the grime and revealing pale skin underneath. The pale skin soon began to turn a vivid shade of pink as he continued to rub at it long after the muck had gone away. He had been concentrating so hard on it that he flinched when a warm hand covered his much larger one and stilled his frantic movements. “Are you done being a jerk?” she asked. He nodded his head, once.

It was a little awkward when she shifted around, water did escape the huge tub in which they were both sat but eventually she came to rest behind him. Before he could protest, her hands were rubbing sweet scented soap into his scalp. The gentle motion of her fingers pressed into the skin making his eyes heavy. He almost did not hear her when she spoke, “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. The dried blood had been cleansed from his skin and he no longer cared where it had come from. He wasn’t sure if he did in the first place. His home was a wreck, the inhabitants were abhorrent, and he hated them all. Death was too good for most of them, yet it was all he had to offer. The thoughts fled from his mind when Fuuko did that thing with her fingers close to his ears. If he was a cat, he would have been purring. As it was, he let out a contented sigh.

She rinsed the suds from his hair and then began working in some of the goo that made it soft and smell like flowers.  It was supposed to be good for it, or so she said at least. He didn’t care in the slightest; it just meant that she kept rubbing his head and that felt unbelievable after the time he had been out. Time seemed to still while she was moving her fingers and he wondered whether he would be able to sleep in the water. He probably shouldn’t, it was not a safe thing to do after all.

Soft lips pressing on his aching shoulder brought his mind back to the present. Little teeth scrapped over his skin and a delicious shiver tripped down his spine; warming his belly when it settled. What was all this? If she wanted to pay him some more attention, he wasn’t going to complain about it.

“Tell me,” she said softly, her breath hitting the shell of his ear. Her teeth nipped at the lobe before she continued. “Have you ever made love in a bath before?”

Konrad’s first instinct was to scoff at such a foolish notion; she knew the answer to that already. Biting back the retort, he shoved a smile onto his face and shook his head. “Water will get everywhere,” he said. She knew he was enthusiastic when it came to love-making!

“Surely, that is part of the fun?” she said.

He wasn’t so sure about that, it sounded like fun but it also sounded as though it had a high potential for flooding. Maybe if they were in a lake or something it would be better. Or the shower. He cast it a fleeting glance over to his right. His thoughts dissolved when she nipped at his shoulder again.  Ugh, fine, if that was what she wanted then he’d relent, she could clean the water up afterwards though!

Catching her chin with a large finger, he tilted her head back and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were plump, soft and the faint taste of mint lingered on her breath, she had cleaned her teeth recently. A flash of guilt shot through him; he had done no such thing. It didn’t seem to bother her overly much, not by the way her tongue tickled his mouth, demanding entrance. Konrad relented with a soft growl – a known signal for her to watch his teeth. She did and seconds later he was drowning in the sensation that was her.

He was always amazed by how small her tongue was, how deft and subtle and how she was able to do such things with it that made the rest of the world not matter anymore. He no longer cared that they were in a huge tub of now luke-warm water, all he wanted was to chase her tongue around the inside of his mouth and win the battle she created.

She was the one who drew his hand to her chest, encouraging him to play with the generous breasts there. He didn’t need much encouragement to do so; he liked her breasts. The way they swayed and moved as she did was captivating and it took him some strength to not just look at them.

The positioning was awkward. That needed to change. Reaching around behind him, he pulled her onto his lap. The slosh of water was irrelevant compared to the simple pleasure of feeling her against him in this way. She was hot in his lap and he chased her mouth, returning the kiss he had broken to move her. Small hands pushed into his clean hair. He twisted his head to the side, granting her better access to his mouth without his nose getting in the way. Her soft breath hit his cheek, carefully, he nipped at her lips. When he drew back, she just followed.

His hearts pounded in his chest, her little hands rested on his shoulders. This was something he would never get used to, as much as he wanted to. She never failed in this. He was already hard. That would have been awkward once upon a time, now it was merely inevitable. She broke the kiss and bit his neck. His lips parted and he let out a noise that was definitely not Night Haunter-esque. He raised his hips eagerly, twisted and sank his teeth into her shoulder, not enough to draw blood but enough to feel it.

Her squeal was worth it. “Hey,” she laughed.

“What?” he demanded before he did it again, this time to the side of her neck. Again, enough to leave a mark but not to draw blood.

She took his hand again and slid it down her body. He knew what she wanted but the guidance was always welcome. He was not so sure of this mode of contact to be secure in her demands. The moment his hand was brought to the apex of her thighs however, he knew what to do. Knowing fingers parted her lips and slid against her. The water helped but he could tell she was wet, the moisture there slicker than the liquid around them.

The little mewling noises she made as he touched her were a delight to hear. They sent a delicious thrill through him, the way she lay on his chest as he caressed her delicate sex. She hissed when he found her sensitive nub and pushed his calloused finger up against it. She tried to force her weight onto him, however the water kept her floating just above him.

He pushed his forefinger into her, just past the knuckle; his thumb kept massaging her clit in a slow, almost languid manner. This was something she had taught him to do, long ago and he liked to think that he had perfected the technique. By the sound of it, he had done so. Her lips mashed against his again, the kiss stolen, made and broken in moments. She wiggled and squirmed against him, her breasts pushed against his broad chest.

Heat fired in the pit of his stomach; he wanted her. Needed her even. He leaned forward and sucked the peak of her breast into his mouth, careful not to catch his teeth against her skin. She tightened against his finger, her breathing shifted, became shallow and hitching. He thrust his finger that bit quicker, pressed a bit harder and she unravelled. The look on her face was a picture, the way her nose screwed up and her mouth opened. His cock pushed against his hand, demanding attention too. Soon.

He didn’t let her settle, there was something amazing about thrusting into her still twitching and clenching pussy. He pulled her down onto him sharply; it was his turn to gasp as the pressure around his cock increased. This first thrust was always so, so sweet. There was no adjustment, she was tight. His thoughts spiralled out. He bit her shoulder. She squealed.

He didn’t give himself time either, he just started thrusting. He could hear her protests, her mewling and squeaking. There was no stopping. He wasn’t hurting her and if she truly wanted to stop, she would do so. He was aware of water sloshing around, as he had said it would. It wasn’t a worry. Her hands scrabbled against his chest, her nails bit into his skin. Not enough to draw blood.

Hands fell to her hips, gripping them tight, holding her still as he thrust into her. Her thighs clenched and tensed, her legs resting on his hips. “Konrad,” she gasped. He knew what that meant. She tensed around him all over again, this time with his cock inside her rather than his finger. Deft little finger pinched his nipple, hard. He gnashed his teeth at her.

“Fuuko,” he snapped. The heat shot through his stomach, his hips bucked. She did it again. He growled as his thrusts lost consistency; he was going to come and there was little that could stop it. Her mouth claimed his as she tightened again. Her tongue thrust into her mouth. His thumb pressed into her hip. The sound of water smacking against their skin, the bath, the floor echoed, he grinned as she kissed him. He then pulled back and the world turned white.

Not from a vision, not from a pull of some foresight, because her body demanded it. Her cries were joined by his and for a few blissful moments, he only knew the pleasure she gave him. It never lasted long, but when he returned to the present, his body tingled. Her forehead was pressed against his and she was panting. There was a smile on her face. Good. He’d not broken her this time.

She then relaxed against him, he slid from her and his arm curled around her back, holding her close in a loose embrace. He nuzzled into her shoulder and kissed her cheek, a rare, genuinely tender gesture that let her know how he felt for her. “I didn’t come here to do this,” he muttered, “But, I’m glad I did.”

“Me too,” she said. She sat up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Now, I have work to do, get this water cleaned up and maybe there will be something to eat,” she said before pushing out of the bath.

“Hey!” he snapped. He was sure that wasn’t part of the deal. He made to grab her but she was already out of reach. Damn, there was water everywhere! He looked around and shrugged. He wasn’t going to wipe that up, it would dry on its own!

 


	10. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Muses are friends with benefits

  1. Friends - Our muses are friends with benefits



 

“I am only coming in there if there is ice cream.” Sevatar’s grumble echoed through the thin cloth of the roof of the blanket fort and Spero looked up. Typical. She had made the fort big enough for the Night Lord to fit in as well, lined it with warm blankets and pillows. Spero had been reclining on one of them, reading her book when her companion had disturbed her. She looked up from the book, only able to see his unclothed foot.

“Are you going to make me get out of here and fetch it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

She snapped the book shut and placed it at the other end of the tent. Scooting forward, she left the tent and looked at her wayward companion, “Well get in then, I will be back soon.” The side of his scarred mouth twitched and he glanced down at the tent.

“Fine,” he said.

By the time she returned, he had made himself more than a little comfortable. When Spero bent to her knees, she saw that he was stretched out over the back of the fort reclining on a pile of pillows. Chucking the cold tub at his stomach, she placed the spoon between her teeth and gestured for him to move over. He didn’t.

With all the grace of a dead rabbit, Spero scooted herself back into the fort. The blankets scrunched up underneath her and she flopped in. When she had settled herself in the space that was left, she took the spoon out of her mouth and handed it to him. “Happy?” she asked.

He took the spoon, peeled the lid back from the tub and dug out some of the soft, cool fluff. She watched as he placed the spoon in his mouth. The delicate flex and stretch of his lips, the way the scar pulled back and his tongue greeted the spoon as though it were a lover. Spero swallowed. She had never envied cutlery before. His black eyes closed in exaggerated pleasure as he pulled the spoon back through his lips and sighed. When he opened his eyes, they met hers and he smirked, “What?”

“Are you going to share that?” she asked.

He looked down at the tub, then back up at her. “I wasn’t going to.” Her foot slipped, kicking him in the shin. Of course, it would never hurt, he was far too genhanced for something like that to bother him but the message would be sent clearly enough. He raised a black eyebrow.

“I slipped!” she protested.

The other eyebrow joined his raised one and he shoved the spook back into the ice cream. He pulled it out again and waved it at her. “You’re not having the spoon,” he said. His grin showed, clean, white teeth flashing at her.

Spero opened her mouth anyway and accepted the ice cream which was pushed into her mouth with surprising care. Maybe he didn’t want to damage her teeth. It was cold, sweet and utterly delicious. She didn’t linger, released the spoon so he could eat some more should he wish to. It seemed as though he did. Once more, she watched with envy as he wrapped his mouth around the spoon, this time, he made no question of it. She was sure he was planning on doing something however. There was a flash in those black eyes of his that just gave it away.

He watched her the entire time he had the spoon in his mouth. Spero was sure that he pulled it between his lips deliberately slowly. “Wish this was you?” he asked.

“When you treat is as though it were the most desired of lovers, yes,” she said.

“But you don’t shovel piles of fluffy ice cream into my mouth though, do you?” he said.

That sounded like a challenge to her. She swiped the tub from where it rested next to his stomach and held out her hand for the spoon. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to let her have it. Then the sticky end splattered into her hand. Grinning, she dug into the tub and scooped some of the ice cream into her mouth.

“Hey! I didn’t give you that to just eat it all yourself,” Sevatar said.

She turned her blue eyes to him, signalling him to just wait a moment. Leaning over, she pushed her mouth up to his. The moment his lips parted, she pushed the ice cream into his mouth with her tongue. She pulled back, the grin still on her face. He savoured the ice cream regardless. “Well, don’t stop there,” he said when he had done.

The cool of the ice cream had contrasted deliciously with the heat of his mouth, she was only too happy to indulge him. She scooped some more into her mouth and repeated the action. Once again, his sharp taste contrasted the sweet ice cream. This time, his rough tongue brushed hers, lingering before taking the cold cream with him.

Next time, when their mouths met, he did not take the ice cream straight away. Instead, she was permitted to explore his mouth instead. Delicate heat prickled at the hairs on her arms, and she shifted a little closer. He broke the kiss, for that was what it had become, and looked at her.

“I’m not done,” he said.

“Nor am I,” she replied. Putting some more ice cream into her mouth, she pushed up against his scarred face once again. His lips parted and once more, she was fixed with another searing kiss. The contrasting temperatures, his musky scent and deft way of probing her mouth created a heady combination that set her senses alight. Without thought, her hand touched his cheek. It crept into his black hair, gripped and pulled him in, not wanting to let him go just yet. It was futile, he was far bigger and stronger than she was.

His response was to pull her against him, the kiss deepened. For a moment, their teeth collided. She pulled back a fraction. Her hand brushed the side of his face, finding the skin softer than she thought possible. Her fingertips bumped the armour port at the base of his neck, exploring the flesh there as her tongue toyed with his, the ice cream long gone.

Sucking in air through her nose, she refused to let him leave her mouth. She hummed into the kiss, savouring him, wanting him even more. He shifted closer. Her eyes drifted closed as his warmth engulfed her. Abandoning what remained of her restraint, she pressed herself into his body, filling his hard planes with her soft curves. Her hands slid down his back to rest lightly on his firm bum.

He groaned when she broke the kiss; she leaned down to bite at the side of his neck. The tang of his skin flooded her mouth and her eyes drifted closed. She wanted to focus on the taste and that alone. He leaned his head back and she moved around to the front, her tongue pressing against his throat, which elicited some delicious sounds from his lips. A smile crept onto her face and she repeated the action, savouring the noises he made. Spero wanted to hear more of those.

“You have a problem,” he said.

“What?” she asked, as far as she knew they had both been enjoying that. A smirk touched his lips and he took her hand.

“You need to deal with this.” Her hand was placed firmly on the expanded bulk of his cock. Spero’s eyes widened.

“My problem?” she asked.

“Well, you’re the cause, it doesn’t do that by itself.”

Spero pressed the heel of her hand into his crotch and gave a light shrug, “I don’t believe that for a moment,” she said.

“Ahh, you catch me for in a mistruth. You still need to deal with it.” His tone was light and she laughed despite herself. It was a good job he was hot.

There was still ice cream left. A thought occurred to her. “Very well,” she said. Her deft hand tugged the buttons of his fly undone, her hand slipping into the fabric and squeezing the confined bulge. “Get these out the way.” She gave a final tug, unable to move him out the way. He was far larger than she after all.

When he shifted and yanked the fatigues out the way, she reached for the tub of ice cream again. Shoving some more into her mouth, she let the chill settle before she bent down and slipped her hand under his cock. As she lifted it, she slipped the smooth head into her wet mouth. Sevatar made no sound, his hand simply tangled into her thick, red hair as she swept her tongue over his tip. The sugary, sweet ice cream was sharp against the tang of salt.

Spero’s fingers curled around the base of his shaft. She knew he would push into her throat before long; this was something he enjoyed. For the moment, she was content working up to that. The ice cream slid over his prick, mixing with her saliva, coating him with the fluid. His hand curled around her hair, holding it at the nape of her neck. Spero’s other hand moved to cup his heavy balls, kneading them as she pushed him further and further into her mouth. Her tongue was not idle, it swept over him, rubbing and pawing at his shaft, tickling and teasing the head, swiping away the fine bead of moisture that appeared there.

She was awarded with a groan that came from the pit of his stomach. As she bobbed her head back and forth, his hand tightened in her hair and began moving with her. She knew what came next. His movements became more dictated, he pushed her head down further, his hips lifting at the same time.  She had never choked on him, though he had tried that a few times. Her head moved with him, suckling and licking at him as he thrust into her mouth. Squeezing his balls, Spero savoured the heavier breathing, the noises he made and the grunts too. Every noise was a victory, every sound a triumph.

Pressing her lips firmly onto his shaft, she quickened her pace as his thrusting intensified. His balls jumped in her hand, his head rolled back and the growl he made increased in pitch. Knowing what was about to happen, she abruptly stopped and pulled out of his grip. She moved her hand away and leaned up on her elbows.

His face was a picture. Somewhere between rapture and torment, confusion and irritation.

Sevatar reached over and grabbed her leg. Spero squealed as he yanked her onto her back, “Don’t think we’re done,” he growled.

It was an ancient play, one she knew the lines to most well. “Of course not,” she quipped. “Though this was not what I had in mind. Just that someone was too eager to get going that I had no chance to move.” She shoved his chest with her foot. It was not a blow that would even bother a warrior such as he.

He feigned falling back however, allowing her to climb into his lap. This would be far more comfortable and it gave her the illusion of control as well. His hand brushed against her lower spine, she rubbed her slick quim over his cock, teasing herself. Her fingers found his chest, brushed over the hairless expanse to find one of his nipples. It was while she was pinching it that she allowed herself to sink onto him, impaling herself on his thick length.

No matter how many times they did this, it always felt as good as the first. His girth always surprised her. It stole her breath and she gasped as he assisted with a swift thrust. Spero yelped. Hands flew to her hips, thumbs pressed into the soft skin on either side and as always, there was no reprieve. No way for her to accommodate or become used to his presence inside her. Immediately, he began the process of slaking his lust.

That did not mean she didn’t enjoy what he did. Oh no, far from it.  Every movement he made sent sparks rocketing through her. At first, she tried to keep up with him, his hips colliding into his as he thrust up into her. After a moment, she gave up. There was no pace to keep. Her hands rested on his broad chest, keeping her balance as he pounded into her. Heat ripped through her, red waves of searing fire cascaded over Spero’s body with every thrust he made. Her entire body clenched, or seemed to and she knew what was about to happen.

It seemed as though he had other ideas.

Sevatar yanked his prick from within her. The smirk on his face was one she wanted to smack off. He had left her body trembling, aching for his return. “Doesn’t feel so good does it,” he said. Spero shook her head. “Hands and knees,” he demanded.

“Like this Sev?” she asked. She did as asked and then wiggled her bum at him, teasing, aching for him.

“Hmm,” he confirmed. He inched over to her, she could feel his heat reflecting off her skin. Wrapping his hand around her thick, red hair, he yanked it back. At the same time, he thrust back into her quivering quim. Spero did not recognise the noises that came from her throat. “What was that? I didn’t catch it?” he asked.

“Fuck,” she said as another one of his deep thrusts caught her by surprise. He set a relentless pace; the slap of his thighs hitting her bum warned those that might venture into the blanket fort that now was not a good time. He tugged her hair, forcing her to look up. Over her shoulder, she saw the delicious concentration on his face as he fucked her. His lips were parted, she was sure he was panting at least a little.

His other hand slapped her bum, the sting echoing through her. Spero screwed her eyes shut, the wave of red rising within her. The cliff fell away, and her body slammed against the shores as her climax tore through her. Her eyes rolled, her back arched, and her muscles clenched his shaft. Rolling waves of heat coated her quim. It rolled down to cover her lover's cock and as the white, hot nectar flowed thick from her sex, Spero knew she was his. He owned her and with every crashing wave that followed she continued to ride the tide as he fucked her through it.

Still, he did not relent. Another slap echoed, another jerk on her hair. She thrust back into him; her cries joined the slaps. His voice finally joined hers, his deep sonorous voice filled with pleasure. Reaching behind her awkwardly, the tips of her fingers brushed his balls. He shouted then, his thrusts increasing in pace, losing their consistency.

Sevatar leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back. His hot breath brushed the back of her neck. His panting breath echoed in gasps, she knew what was going to happen. Teeth scrapped over her shoulder, the bite would leave a mark. It always did.

He pulsed inside her, thrust three more times, grunted and released. The odd scent of his sweat reached her as he coated her insides with hot, sticky fluid. Only when the final spurt had left him did he release the hold on her hair. There was a shift and his body heat left her with a shiver. When he was settled, he did not reach for her; he never did. Spero went anyway and settled against with a soft sigh.

After a moment, he spoke, “Is there any ice cream left?”


	11. In - penetrative

  1. Plunge - One of our muses fingering the other



The party was in full swing. Celebrations like this were not overly common with the Fifteenth, they tended to prefer quieter, more scholarly events, but Horus was having none of it. His warriors were far more enthusiastic when they had won a battle and it showed. Food had been prepared and partaken of. Now everyone was waiting for the desert. Spero sat next to Ahriman, their hands linked under the table. She was there to record and witness what had happened, the fact that the two of them had been together for a few months now had nothing to do with her presence there. That was what he kept telling himself anyway.

Conversation had flowed almost as freely as the wine; by the time the serfs brought desert round – layers of ice-cream and some crunchy, sweet treat that he was informed was called meringue, he almost didn’t want it. Almost.  It was a delicious combination however and by the time he was done, Ahzek felt more than satisfied. The wine that followed was not quite as delicious as the ones he made but it would suffice. At some point, Spero had dropped her hand. He had been talking to Hathor about the recent discovery in biomancy when her hand brushed the inside of his thigh. He did not react. Hathor would know anyway, he always knew. The smile that crept onto his face gave everything away.

+I think you two need some time alone together.+ the biomancer sent.

Ahzek caught Spero’s hand before she could reach anything too sensitive and placed it on his knee instead. +I believe you are right.+ he sent back.

He then turned to the little minx that was attempting to grope him under the table and smiled, “I missed you also,” he said. They were still surrounded by other party goers, so he was loathe to make any physical display for her. Most of them would be able to see his aura too, and hers, so he measured his reaction. Her smile was subtle, but he knew exactly what it meant. He had not been away that long to forget her little nuances.

+Take me somewhere quiet?+ he sent to her. As lovely as she looked, done up in her black dress with her hair up like that, he wanted nothing more than to peel it off her.

It seemed as though she had no qualms as he did. Spero shifted in her chair, rose up and pressed her lips to his. Ahzek’s eyes widened a fraction before he leaned into the kiss anyway. He heard snickers from those around him, his brothers knew of their connection, the Luna Wolves did not. Their whoops and cheers made his cheeks colour but he didn’t break the contact. A small hand touched his cheek, her tongue flicked over his sealed lips but he did not yield.

+Away from these animals, please.+ he sent. She broke away and gave a small nod.

“Come then,” she said, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, I will walk you back,” he said perhaps a little louder than he should. They both got to their feet together and she slid her hand into his again. It was she who tugged him away from the table and the knowing looks of the Wolves who had shared their table.

They had scarce left the room before she turned and stopped him. Their lips met at the same time, far more passionate than it had been moments before. He pulled her close, wanting her warmth against him. Lips parted, tongues met and little whimpers escaped them both. Tilting his head to the side, he pushed further into her mouth, remembering her delicate taste and soft lips. Savouring them for the first time in months, he truly had missed her.

He knew he should take her back to their rooms, but the doorway was blocked by a lot of other astartes and guests. None of them would notice if… Ahriman smirked. He was not the best at altering the thoughts of others so they would not be seen, but he was adept enough to put the suggestion into those minds that they were not to be noticed. Tugging her hand, he lightly pulled Spero against the wall. She was so warm, so close; it had been so long.

His mind touched a handle, the door opened inward, and they practically tumbled inside. “Ahzek?” she questioned. The door clicked shut behind them. “Is this a closet?” she asked.

“Does that matter?” Her chuckled reply told him far more than words could. Their mouths crashed together then, words no longer needed. Their time apart and longing for one another showing in the intensity of their kiss. He tilted his head a little, pushing into her mouth, caressing her tongue with his. Once again, her delicate taste flooded his senses. Her hand pushed into his hair and he sagged against the wall under the assault of her passion. Sinking to the floor, she climbed into his lap, the connection of their mouths never breaking.

Purple flashed though her aura, his matched. Huge hands slid up her waist, rucking up the fabric of her black dress. Fingers yanked at his robes. All the while, the kiss consumed him. Perfume touched his nose, delicate. If he focused he could pick up all the compounds it was made of. A light touch brushed his hardening length and he hissed. While he had been distracted, she had shoved her hand into his underwear. He hadn’t realised how starved of touch he was until now.

Letting his hand fall, he cupped her breast, his thumb brushing the nipple through the fabric. The murmur she made broke the kiss for a moment. Silently, he looked up at her through the gloom. It didn’t matter that they were in a cleaning closet, it didn’t matter that they didn’t have long, or that they had to be quiet. All that mattered was that they were together. He touched her face with his other hand. “We can take our time later,” he whispered.

“Fine,” she nodded.

Her grip on his cock strengthened and he tugged the remaining fabric of her dress out the way. Her scent, musky and clean, hit him and he suppressed a groan. His dick jumped in her hand, the wave of pure, white warmth that flowed after reminded him how much he had missed her.

Slipping his hand underneath her panties, he realised she must have missed him too. The slick essence coated his fingers. She whimpered when he pressed against the sensitive areas. Slowly, he slid his finger back and forth against her soft skin. After a moment of indulgence however, she lifted her hips and tugged his hand away. “Careful,” she whispered, “We don’t want to get caught.”

She wiggled, and the slick heat of her touched the tip of his cock. He bit his lower lip as she sank onto him agonisingly slowly. The curse died on his lips when he caught the look on her face. The line of pleasure just between her eyebrows, the way her nose wrinkled, the pull of her mouth. Her knees nudged at his hips and he could do nothing for a moment but grin at the woman he was now inside.

Her hand covered his mouth, though the smile on her face was playful. “You said quick,” she whispered, her voice little more than a breath. “Let’s see how quick!”

Then she began to move. White danced through him as the pleasure rocketed from the tip of his prick through his entire body. He had sought to connect minds with her but his concentration was swiftly robbed. All he could do, was slip his huge hands to her hips and press into them with his fingers as she rolled back and forth along his length.

Watching the bliss travel over her as moved was almost as incredible as what she was doing to him. His lips parted and he licked the fingers that were still covering his mouth. She hissed but didn’t remove them. He knew he could be silent. He was unsure about her. Breath hitched as Spero changed her pace. Leaning up, he pushed her hands against her mouth, kissed them. He bent his knees, giving her more resistance. Watching her bite her lip to keep from shouting out

Tingling built in the base of his spine. The suckling clench of her heat around his cock trembled and twitched as she moved. He pushed his hips up to hers, not preventing what was happening. It had been a long time, there was no worry there. Spero smiled down at him, her expression rapt, almost determined.

Ahzek leaned his head back against the wall and let the heat flow between them. His vision blurred, his breathing ceased and his thoughts vanished leaving his mind utterly blank. His hips stuttered, bucking as his body reached the inevitable point. Normally, he’d have cried out, normally, he’d have been vocal about what he was feeling. He never forgot that they were in a closet. His cock pulsed, the tension releasing white ropes of fluid deep into her. Nor was he alone with his pleasure, she vibrated around him, her breathing far heavier than before.

When he opened his eyes again, both were breathing heavily. Her smile was a mirror of his, sated for the time being. Leaning up, he pressed a swift kiss to her lips. “Come,” he whispered, “Maybe now we can get out of here.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I rather fancy some time in the bath, with you of course.”

He chuckled at that and she slid off his lap. It took a moment for her to rearrange her dress, and his robes too. Once done, they crept out of the closet as though being in there was the most natural thing in the world. No one noticed. They were all far too busy with their own agendas. It allowed them to sneak off for the rest of the evening so they could spend it as she had suggested.

                                                                                                                      


	12. Motor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have sex in a transport

  1. Motor - Our muses having sex in a car – or in this case, a transport



The moment he had climbed down the hatch of the land raider, Synthalia had grabbed the thing and drawn it shut. The bang had echoed, though there was no one nearby to hear it. It was a good job that they could both see in the dark. She didn’t waste time talking, there were no questions asked, she simply reached out and clasped his shoulder. He knew what was going on too, it was a familiar situation and they had summoned one another for this reason before. Never in the land raider though, and never had she felt such a burning desire either.

Without preamble, their mouths connected. Lips parted and tongues collided. His salty tang flooded her mouth, a taste she would recognise anywhere. Dimly, she knew that she would be able to track him with this granted knowledge, something she would never have to do. Tilting her head to the side, she caressed his tongue, chasing his. Heat flushed her white cheeks, though she was far from embarrassed about what she was doing. He was far from passive either. Hot breath echoed off her face, scratchy beard grazed her skin, rough, scar-burned hands shoved into her hair, holding the back of her neck as if in a vice.

Not content, she brushed her hand through the scruff on his cheek. It had taken getting used to. He was no less desirable for it; somehow, the rugged hair added to his considerable charm. The palm of her hand was no smoother than his, the rough scrape of skin grazed as her hand gripped the soft locks of his hair. It was perhaps the softest thing about the First Captain. That and the skin just behind his ear where his jaw began.

As the kiss became more heated, he stepped forward. Synthalia was not quite as tall as Sevatar, she never backed down but with his hand on her shoulder, she was guided backwards. She stopped when her calves hit one of the land raider’s seats. Not once did their contact break. When she finally pulled back, her lips tingled. Synthalia met his eyes and licked her lower lip. She could still taste him. “Delicious,” she hummed, finally speaking. It had done nothing to abate the lust pulsing through her veins. Pressure on her shoulder made her sit, the curve of the seat familiar.

“I think you know what else is delicious,” he said. She looked up at him. Emotionless black eyes stared back at her; she had expected nothing else. The scar about his mouth made the smirk wider. She understood well enough. Her hands came to rest on his thighs, thumbs pressing into the firm meat of his legs. 

She had been face to face with him before. Say what you will of Sevatar, but never let it be said that he was small. Her smirk matched his. “Tell me anyway? Indulge me,” she said. Her hand brushed over the impressive swelling with the ghost of a touch.

His hand tightened in her hair, pulling. Despite the sweet shock it sent through her, she hissed. Her hand tugged at the fasten of his fatigues, popping the buttons with a deft movement of her hand. The brief illumination of a low, flashing green light echoed off his white skin, though there was no other sound except what they made. “This bit here?” she asked before the ran the tip of her tongue over the skin where his waistband had been. It earned her another tug of her hair.

“Try again.”

She stuck her bottom lip out, deliberately ignoring the bulge that wanted to be set free. She nipped his bare hip, tugging the fatigues down out the way. There was another yank, sharper this time. Fine. Patience was perhaps not the virtue of the day. Her hand was not rough when she lifted his prick free from the confines of his pants. Keeping her grip on the base of him, she poked the tip of his hardening cock with her tongue.

“Kiss it,” he said.

She did. Her lips, not delicate yet soft, brushed along the head. Her lips parted, she pushed the hooded skin back. Her tongue played around the slit, swirling and teasing as she had done with his mouth. Moistening every part of his cock with her mouth, she used the press of her lips to push against him. She liked it when he hardened around her tongue, she felt each twitch, each pulse and motion.

Her hand was hardly idle while her mouth moved. It slid back and forth in time with the motion of her mouth. His scent, musky with undertones of lapping powder, made her shiver. The flood of heat between her thighs never failed to amaze her when she was around him. He sparked deep sensations that she was sure she shouldn’t feel. She ran the tongue under his cock, tasting him, sucking on the tip while her hand worked the length. Slowly, she brought her other hand up to cup his balls. The weight of them made it easy to roll them, squeezing them, tugging on them as she pushed him deeper into her mouth.

Synthalia had never had much trouble with gagging, she was able to take him into her throat without her choking. It was a strange sensation, not uncomfortable. The grip on her hair tightened and he started to thrust. A move as familiar as it was pleasurable. Relaxing, she gave up control of the motion and moved with him instead. One hand circled the base of his shaft. Her other she decided to put to good use. Thrusting it into her fatigues, she pushed her fingers between the wet cleft at the top of her thighs and groaned around his cock. Her panties were drenched with the need to have him inside her, for now she teased herself as he fucked her mouth.

The swift thrusting coated her mouth with salty fluid, though she knew he wasn’t done, far from it. She shuddered as she pressed against her wet clit, quivering with a need she had felt since she had returned to the _Nightfall_. She had been planet-side for what felt like months, perhaps it was. She’d had time to get clean before summoning him here. They’d not fucked in a land raider before. A deep, guttural sound caught her attention and she pressed her tongue against his prick again. Sparks shot through her; her calves tensed up.

A hand curled down and snapped her wrist, stopping her from teasing herself. She glanced up, his thrusts slowed. Sucking down on him, she let him slip from her mouth with a little pop. “I need you to fuck me,” she growled. “Now.”

“Better get those fatigues off then,” he said. She gave him a final squeeze at the base before shucking out of her pants. The moment they were gone, rough hands gripped her and hoisted her up. Her back hit the metal of the Land Raider with a bang. The tip of his slick cock pressed against her wet pussy, before sliding into her.

The full sensation his prick gave her always left her breathless. “Fuck,” she hissed, catching her lower lip between her teeth. She crossed her legs over his hips, tensed and savoured the little noise he made in return. Her heavy breasts pressed against the hard muscle of his chest, for a moment, she craved skin contact.

There was no real time to adjust; he just started thrusting. His hand thudded into the metal beside her head. Twisting, she sank her teeth into his arm. She matched his pace, feeling every inch he gave her. Need drove her onwards, the need to feel him, the need to lose herself in heat, the need for the oblivion that came with release. He growled, low and guttural, nudged her head out the way. The bite was returned on her neck.

The flashing light in the Land Raider did not provide much illumination, though the darkness was no trouble. A constant slap of thigh crashing against thigh echoed from the walls, hot breath hit her face. She couldn’t reach between them to touch, she didn’t need to. A swift, sloppy wet kiss caught her mouth, broken seconds later as air was sucked in.

Synthalia’s awareness of the rest of the world faded away, narrowing to the burning heat coiled in the pit of her stomach and the point where they joined. His bulk bucked within her, she glanced at his face, an expression of pleasurable concentration touched his mouth, though not his eyes, never his eyes. Her teeth clamped on his chin, her stomach clenched.

“Sev!” she cried, shortening his name without thought.

His thrusting lost consistency, became sharper, shorter, more insistent. Her vision darkened. She screwed her eyes shut and gave in to the insistent nagging from her body. Fire slammed into her; rapid clenching gripped his cock as he thrust once, twice, three time more. His shouts then joined hers and she felt him release thick jets of sticky fluid into her.

Moments later, she realised that she was trembling. The sharp release of tension had left her both breathless and reeling, in a way that only he could. Her legs shook, though not with the effort of keeping herself where she was, she was strong enough for that. She found herself guided down to one of the seats, easily straddling him as he sat. Neither of them were out of breath, though she knew her third lung had been engaged to cope with the irregular breathing.

For a while, they remained where they were, silent. She held on to his broad shoulders, her head lightly resting against his. At first, it had surprised her that he hadn’t immediately insist they wash up and part ways. Not so anymore. Love was an emotion far above anything either of them was capable of feeling, but that did not mean there was no capacity for care. She had come to care, and that too surprised her.

The light in the Land Raider flicked from green to red. “We need to go,” she said. They both knew that it meant someone was coming to inspect the vehicle.

“Worried we’ll be caught?” he said.

She slid off his lap regardless, abandoning his warmth. Pulling her fatigues back on, she shot him a regretful look. “Never, I’d stay snuggling for a while longer, though I have no need for a tech-marine to catch jealousy upon our discovery,” she said. By the time she looked up, he had shoved himself back into his fatigues and straightened his mussed-up hair. She pulled hers back into a tail and grinned. The vehicle smelled of them both; something that the next occupant wouldn’t fail to miss. He let her climb out first, and she shut the hatch the moment he was out. “Until next time?” she asked.

His mouth touched hers, a mere parting of ways. “Until then.” The smile slid off her face as they turned from one another. The delicate ache between her thighs had been replaced with a fulfilled tingle; at least for the time being.


	13. Plunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sevatar keeps himself amused with Synthalia during a terribly boring briefing.

Synthalia had not been late to the meeting, she just had been last in. It was a simple briefing, nothing more, or so she hoped. Often, these affairs tended to run into the small hours and become tedious. There was the miniscule hope that for once, Naraka would stop his waffling and they would be able to make plans without the bickering. Who was she fooling? Malek was there as well and those two could argue into next week if they were but given opportunity.

She sighed when she realised that the only space left at the table was the one next to Sevatar. Normally, she would avoid sitting beside him. Not because she disliked him, quite the opposite in fact. Nothing good ever came of them sitting next to one another. Their black eyes met as she stalked over. “What is it Naeve?” he asked, “Not afraid to sit beside me are you?” The light mocking in his tone was not lost on her, though she did ignore it.

“Never,” she replied as she yanked the chair from under the table. She plonked into it and dragged it under the table. She leaned her elbows on the metal structure and rested her chin on her hands, every image the attentive warrior she needed to be. She looked over her shoulder at Sevatar, a small smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. The rustle of fabric drew her attention away, a calloused hand touched her shoulder.

“Sit back, I can’t see,” Sevatar said.

“There is nothing to see,” she replied. She sat back anyway.

As if to prove her wrong, a tactical display flashed to life in the centre of the table. The green light showed the surface of the planet they were currently orbiting, highlighted all the cities and potential sites they could drop to and begin their version of compliance. She scanned the runes, took the information in and waited for the Captains to start talking. Three and a quarter seconds later, Naraka did.

He gave a rundown of what they could all read, knowing that half of those present wouldn’t have bothered to do so themselves. Synthalia listened, confirming what she had read with a nod here or there. There were murmurs, then a slight pause. Then they all started talking at once, which told her this was going to be a long meeting. She resisted the urge to sigh.

The merits of the cities were weighed up, this caused the first disagreement. Malek thought that the central dwelling was best, it may be smaller but it had a large trade centre. Naraka indicated the largest city, which he thought was better because the population was larger. She flinched when a pale hand grasped her thigh. The urge to swat it away was strong; she didn’t. Already bored, she couldn’t see the harm in allowing this small infraction on her person.

Her dark eyes met his dead ones. There was never anything in them, just pin-pricks of light that showed what direction he looked. Despite this, despite the dark skin under his eyes and the cold way he gazed around, she found herself drawn to him. The scar that bisected his left eyebrow and that marred the left side of his lip simply added to the roguish attraction she felt. Sometimes, she hated him for it.

His hand crept to the inside of her thigh and she squeezed them together. None of the others seemed to have noticed his wandering hand, and Emperor knew she was bored enough. She slid her chair a little closer but made no other sign something was amiss.

The wiggle of his fingers made her ease her thighs apart. She already knew what he was capable of, this was hardly the first time he had touched her. The others present, and so blatant, was. Synthalia was not going to back down, not going to grant him the satisfaction of knowing she hadn’t the gall for this. His intention was clear when the heel of his hand pressed against her mound and his fingers ghosted just below. She didn’t look at him, merely pressed her lips together and shuffled a little in her chair.

The others were still arguing.

No one else heard the near silent sound of her fatigue buttons coming loose, nor the quiet rustle of fabric either. They were far too focused on what she should be focusing on. His hand slipped under the waistband of her panties and she leaned back a fraction. Heat flared as his rough padded finger brushed against her clit. The moment was fleeting, and he slid passed it into wetter places. Slick moisture rushed to greet him; she tried her best not to fidget.

“What do you think First Captain?” Malek’s growl jerked her attention back to the argument at hand. It did not stop Sevatar’s exploration of her tender parts, though he spoke as though nothing was amiss.

“I was quite enjoying your little tirade,” he replied, “Do continue.”

Malek shot him a glare, however Naraka looked most pleased with himself. The conversation carried on; he had done that on purpose! She didn’t bother glaring, it would make her want to punch the smirk off his annoyingly handsome features. The thought was lost when one of his fingers rubbed against her entrance. It slid inside her with ease and she forced away a gasp. Instead she drew in a slow breath and let it out again. It didn’t help.

Her mind wondered away from the briefing even further than it already was. She thought back to the last time they’d been together. The land raider had been a silent, dark place that seemed right for the purpose. She had been correct. It had not been their longest session but it had been furious, and fun. A bump against her clit brought light dancing before her eyes. This time, she did shuffle.

“Something the matter Naeve?” Naraka asked. His deep voice carried hints of irritation. She shook her head.

“No sir,” she said. She was sure her voice was a few notes higher than usual. Her cheeks felt flushed and her lips tingled, that would give her away. If Naraka noticed, he made no mention of it.

“Sit still then,” he snapped before his attention returned to the debate he was having once more. Sevatar’s expert finger slowly pushed in and out, each sensation stoking the steadily building fire within her. She longed to mash her mouth against his, taste him, battle with his deft tongue and vie for dominance as her hand wrapped around his thick cock. Surely, that must be aching for her touch too.

Without moving too much, she reached over to where he sat. Her wrist was caught in a familiar, firm grip and placed back on the arm of her chair. She shot him a questioning look, to which he simply smirked and shook his head. Fine.

“Was that a disagreement, Sevatar?” This time, it was Var Jahan who spoke up. He looked every bit as bored as most of the others around the table. His scarred visage narrowed as he looked first at Sevatar, then at her and back again.

The bemused tone of the First Captain when he answered made Var Jahan’s scowl deepen, “Not at all, I find I am quite enjoying the moment.”

Synthalia squeaked, then laughed. He had pressed forcefully on her clit and sent stars through her vision. The wash of heat that followed made her leg twitch. Black eyes turned to her again and she sank into her seat once more. A second finger joined the first, without thought, she lifted her hips, craving the slow, deliberate movements that sent those deep shocks through her. She bit her lip and tried to focus on the map displayed on the table.

Why did he have to do this? Why here? Her leg refused to stop trembling. The inability to inflict this delicious torture back made her hands shake. Synthalia gripped the arms of her chair instead, trying to direct her thoughts away from the sharp, intense pleasure he was giving her. Fucking his hand was not an option, if she moved overly much, they’d know. It was likely they knew anyway, the scent wasn’t subtle. The musk of her essence wasn’t strong, but her brothers were Astartes, their noses were as sensitive as hers.

 Heat prickled her forearms and wrists as he thrust his fingers into her, slow and deep. Her lips parted and she took in a measured breath. The building fire in her stomach threatened to become an inferno, she would be bucking against him if this didn’t stop soon. Delicious agony clenched her solar plexus as those unending pulses struck home. She clenched around his fingers as a deep shockwave washed through her. She focused on her breathing.

Another brush of his thumb on her clit, she gasped. He shifted behind her, leaned over and while the others bickered around them, whispered. “I want to fuck you on this table.” Synthalia’s knee hit the bottom of the table with a clang; the others ignored it, not even a pause at the noise. “I want to feel you buck and clench under me as I take you.”

His sonorous voice rocked her, he leaned back. She swallowed. He pressed again, Synthalia strained against his hand, letting him do as he wished. The heat reached a feverish pitch within her depths, growing and threatening to consume her. Another catch of his thumb on her clit. This time he swirled it around as he pushed his next finger in with the others. She resisted the temptation to rest her head on the table.

“Fuck,” she hissed, low, certain that he would be the only one to hear her. Her entire body began to tremble then. Unable to stop the burn within her, she clamped her thighs together to still his movements. It almost worked. It was too late. Pleasure tore through her entire body and for a few, long seconds, she was unable to see. Although no noise escaped her, she clenched around his fingers. Her legs twitched with the power of this silent release, her mind blissfully clear as the waves of heat rolled almost lazily over her. The deep contractions filled her with rapture, and the continued after the ecstasy of release had left her.

She sucked in a breath and let it out as another, final clench left her. She looked over at Sevatar with a warm smile. It was returned with a nod. The need to take him was still there, it never truly left. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her aching quim and brought them to his lips. Mindless of who might know, he put them in his mouth and licked them as though they were the finest of treats. Her grin widened.

She leaned over then and whispered some choice words, “I will get you back for this.”

“I am counting on it,” he replied. “Now, we should pay attention before Var Jahan actually says something about it.” She could have kissed him then, she restrained herself. It was good to know that at least for now, he was on her side.


	14. Beg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synthalia gets her revenge on Sevatar during the next briefing.

Beg - One of our muses denying the other their orgasm

 

Synthalia was incensed with the liberty Sevatar had taken with her during the last briefing, so she had avoided him. Unless he sent for her as an order, she had made sure she occupied herself elsewhere. It had been petty of her, but the active call of their duty had forced the subject from her mind. The planet was now compliant, and the Nightfall had moved on. Duty on board wasn’t overly interesting, training and maintenance were the most relevant thing to do, and she was not immune to the call of her nature. Fighting came as naturally as breathing to all astartes and she was no different to them.

 

It did not take long for the Night Lords to receive their next set of orders and turn the fleet to the next planet due for their brand of compliance. That meant there was another briefing. This time, she would not get stuck next to the First Captain. This time, she would pay attention to what was being said and not let him touch her. No, once was enough! She was first to the briefing room and the first to sit down on one of the large seats. It was a different room than the last one, but the table appeared identical. She wasn‘t sure why she needed to attend these meetings, she did as her superiors told her. Still, Naraka had said she needed to be here, so here she was.

 

The chairs filled up soon after she had arrived. Naraka walked in, followed by Tal Vanek and Malek of the Atramentar. Malithios Kuln, Captain of the 9th Company and Var Jahan, of the 27th. There was no sign of Sevatar. Naraka shut the door to the room and took a seat at the table. There was no preamble; there never was. None of them pretended that they liked each other. Most of the time, they could tolerate one another. There was no niceness however, such an emotion would require pretense they didn‘t possess.

 

Just as Naraka punched the holo-display into life, the door banged open and in walked the perturbed looking First Captain. There was no apology, no reason given for him being late. Instead, he strode over to the side beside Synthalia and slid into it. His hard features relaxed a fraction, though there was no life in the black pits of his eyes. “Why this seat?” she snapped. “Why not the one opposite?”

 

“The company over this side of the table is far better than Var Jahan, you‘re free to move if my presence offends you though Naeve,” he said.

 

“Don‘t touch me this time,” she said.

 

Naraka slapped his hand on the table, calling them all to order, or something that looked like it at least. The display looked similar to all the others they had discussed before. It displayed main cities and locations, viable targets and regions of interest. There was even a place of religious interest on the map this time. It appeared this world would not come to compliance easily. Good. Violence coursed through her blood as quickly as it did her brothers. A good fight was what she needed, clear her mind away from mouldering thoughts.

 

They all read what was before them, though Naraka gave them the highlights. He then asked for their thoughts on the plans before them. The debate began. Unsurprisingly, it was Malek who spoke first. Try as she might, Synthalia found her attention wavering after the first ten minutes. Looking around the table, she saw the glassy expressions of her companions. Jar Vahan appeared to listen; the rest of them looked bored already.

 

She stole a glance at Sevatar. His annoyingly handsome features set in an expression that appeared as though he listened. She knew better. The slight curve of his mouth, the minor lift of his eyebrows, gave away his boredom. Suddenly, she understood. Memories of their last meeting together flooded her. He flashed her the rictus corpse-grin she knew so well. Shuffling the chair a little closer, she draped her hand over the arm of both. The tips of her fingers brushed the top of his thigh.

 

Knowing his body well, she kept her touch light for now. There was no need to rush. He had teased her thoroughly when he’d done this to her. Part of the fun was getting away with it in the middle of a busy room. She knew how to get him off quickly with her hand and her mouth; they had done that several times before. The memory of the shower brought a smile to her lips and a flood of warmth to her cheeks. Rapidly shoving them aside, she traced her hand along the firm meat of his thigh.

 

Sevatar made no sound, but he shuffled a little. He twisted his hips a little, adjusted his posture and angled himself towards her. She knew where to put her hand; she waited. Malek was still waffling on about positioning and targets, Var Jahan, thankfully, engaged in countering his arguments. He was far too busy to notice what she did. Good. Pushing her hand into the gap he had created, she languidly moved it until the tips of her fingers brushed against his balls. Synthalia knew he was a large man, knew the discomfort getting him hard in fatigues would cause. It did not stop her.

 

Her fine touch worked up to the base of his shaft. It pulsed and grew as she pressed the tips of her fingers against it. That was a powerful feeling; she did that, no one else! Moving her fingers along the shaft, she reached the tip and squeezed it lightly against his thigh. The flared head was easy to make out. She knew if she looked, it would be clearly visible through the thin fabric of his fatigues. Rubbing her thumb over the tip, her fingers squeezed the rest of his lengthening bulk.

 

It was tempting to lean over and kiss his smart mouth; their location made that difficult. Everyone in the room knew what the two of them did to one another, flaunting it in an official briefing was not a good idea. If their sire was there, this wouldn’t be happening. She worked her hand back up his shaft to the fastening. Without effort, she had it undone in moments.

 

Synthalia looked up at the holo-display again, at least looking as though she was paying attention. They were still arguing about defences. Sevatar’s skin was hot under the tips of her fingers. With a firm hand, she pulled his prick free of the confines of his pants. She was glad he rarely wore underwear. The huff of air from him was just audible.

 

“What was that First Captain?” Naraka asked, turning his attention to him. “Your thoughts are welcome. You are here for a reason.”

 

She rolled her palm over the head just as he spoke. Without a hitch in his voice, he said, “The left side of the city looks as if it is the most densely populated. If you strike there with one squad and leave them for a few days, the message should spread.”

 

Malek nodded, Naraka shrugged. Part of the argument had at least settled. Vanek and Kuln started then, her attention returned to the cock in her hand. Dimly, she regretted that her arms were not long enough so she could use both hands. He was large enough. A smirk touched her lips; her body was not immune to what she was doing. The creeping wetness between her thighs grew. Shifting, she shoved her hand down her pants and ran her fingers through her wet quim. She returned her slick hand to his awaiting prick and rubbed. Her essence made her hand slip easily over her cock, her firm grip sliding over the softest skin he had.

 

Var Jahan looked up just as she was paying significant attention to the tip again. Pushing his head through her looped fingers, their kinsman looked at them both, his eyes narrowed slightly. She fought back the urge to challenge his stare. Busy as she was, she didn’t need to make it more suspicious. A bead of moisture touched her palm, and she smirked. She did not look at him, though she could hear the quickening of his hearts. Sliding her hand down to the base of his shaft, she cupped his ball, lifting them before running her hand back to the tip again.

 

When Sevatar jumped in her hand, straining against her grip, she quickened the pace. A light smile touched her lips, aware of his head swelling in her hand. Her thumb pressed against the strand of skin just below the tip before rubbing away another fleck of moisture. The scent of him flooded the air. Knowledge of what they were doing made her stomach clench, and she bit back a small moan of her own.

 

“This is going nowhere,” Naraka said with a shake of his head.

 

“What do you suggest?” snapped Val Jahan.

 

“A short break, return here in five minutes,” Naraka said. The others moved away out the room. It appeared as though they needed to clear their heads after the heated argument. As soon as the door banged shut, Synthalia moved.

 

“Fuck,” Sevatar growled.

 

She didn’t bother kissing his mouth, that would be too obvious. “Tell me when you hear them,” she said, putting her trust in the First Captain. Not waiting for an answer, she leaned over the arm of their chairs and slipped his hard cock into her mouth. The fractured noise that wrang from his lips was a true joy to hear. From this position, she couldn’t suck all of him in her mouth, so she concentrated on the tip. Her tongue swept over the slit, the salty tang that was him and her musky taste flooded her.

 

Relaxing her jaw, she massaged the side of his prick with her tongue as she took as much of him in her mouth as she could.  Her fingers never stopped moving either. She palmed him, squeezed his balls and rolled them between her callused hands. He shuddered when she dragged her teeth lightly up the full length of his dick and back down again. His hand grabbed her ponytail and pulled it sharply. Her lips clamped around the base of his shaft, her tongue laved his tip, teasing and wringing out the sounds she desperately needed to hear.

  


The door hand turned. Synthalia sat upright again. Her hand remained on his balls, squeezed and tugging on them as their companions sat down again. She looked at the First Captain and licked her lips. “Thanks for the warning,” she mouthed, slipping her hand up his now sodden shaft. There was no response. Everyone sat down again and the meeting resumed. Sevatar hardened further the moment she concentrated on his tip. Fingers curled around him, gripping firmly, sliding. She paused. He pulsed. Sevatar’s lips parted. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. She did not let go. Was that a light flush on his cheeks? Synthalia smirked.   


  


The moment the twitching stopped. She squeezed again, an agonising slow movement, which sent heat ripping through him. She knew that look; he was close. Good. Watching him bite his lower lip was blissful. Cheekily, she leaned her head in and risked a nip at the spot where his neck met his shoulder. The movement hidden as he had leaned forward. He rewarded her with a hissed breath. Deft fingers clasped his straining prick, not giving enough for him to come just yet. Oh no, not yet. The moment his heavy cock nudged again, she stopped. 

 

Another bead of pre-come left his shaft. She longed to taste it again, but knew she couldn‘t. Sevatar shifted again, the tips of her fingers touching his weighty sack. Heat rolled from him. She wanted him inside her. Maybe later. He‘d stopped jumping now so gingerly, she tickled the underside of his shaft with her short nails. That brought the tingle back. Stopping again, she leaned up and whispered, “When this meeting’s done, I’m going to take this thick cock and ride it until you burst.”

 

She got the idea it was about to do that anyway. Sevatar leaned forward more, his knees bent and parted. Her wrist brushed his thigh, the tension in his limbs feverish. His dick was so hard in her hand, the slightest movement made it jump. He quivered.

 

“So, we are in agreement?” Naraka said, his words reaching through the haze of lust she had created. She blinked. Her hand slipped. The tip of Sevatar’s cock brushed against her palm. She felt it tremble. His hips thrust, heedless of where they were. His shaft surged. The first rush of fluid hit her hand. 

 

“Oh, fuck!” he growled as the second rush hit the tiled floor with a wet splatter. Var Jahan looked at them both, his expression changing from one of concern to disgust as the salty aroma flooded the air. Sevatar had thrown his head back, the expression of rapture on his face gave them both away. She felt no shame, though it was clear Naraka would have words with her later. Everyone heard the final sounds of Sevatar’s release, though for now they said nothing.

 

She gave his cock a final light squeeze before withdrawing her hand. Sevatar opened his eyes and gave a dead man’s grin to them all. “What?” he asked.

 

“Summon a cleaning crew before we carry on,” Var Jahan said.

 

“A good idea Jahan, someone appears to have come on the floor,” Sevatar shrugged.

 

“This meeting’s done anyway,” Naraka said. His tone was more resigned than disgusted. Without ceremony, Synthalia wiggled in her seat, adjusting herself as if nothing had happened. Beside her, Sevatar did the same. When their eyes met, she saw the same mischief in his face she had. The others filed out, some shaking their heads, some not caring. When they were all gone, Synthalia finally rose. She pressed a kiss to his temple, pleased with herself.

 

“You know we will never be allowed to sit near one another again after this,” she said.

 

“A shame really,” he said. He grabbed her bum as she walked past. “I was just getting started.”

 


	15. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhibitionism at its worst?  
> And some claiming as well.

Exposed - Our muses take part in exhibitionism

The gloom of the practice cages echoed with the constant clash and clatter of weaponry. Ozone clung in the air like a wretched, bitter perfume. Darkness bothered none of the warriors within the training rooms, their Nostraman eyes were perfectly adapted to see without light. Several of the Night Lords were engaged in taking on servitors, their programming matching their skills. Some of them were watching others duel, offering tips and feedback, scorn and insults depending on who was fighting. Others were working their way through ancient practice drills, ones they had worked through since the early days of their training. Just because they were ancient did not make them useless.

 

There was a comforting familiarity with the old routines. Synthalia knew them almost as well as she knew her own hand, but she still went through them on a near daily basis. For her, it was a lead up to what she wanted to do next. A way of preparing her mind and body for combat drills of a higher intensity. The rest of her squad were absent, off maintaining their gear or using other rooms. Warp transit was not an exciting stretch of time, but it was a necessary one. She was not in power armour. Her mark IV plate had needed attention after the last mission, but that was no excuse to cut out training. Naraka‘s company had rejoined the Nightfall three days ago. They were all cleared and had resumed occupancy of their cells on board. It was good to be home.

 

She straightened, flicked moisture from her brow and forced her shoulders to relax. Looking around, she spotted one of the nearby weapon racks and pulled a simple chain sword from it. The weapon was light in her hand. Not as familiar as hers but it would suffice. She fully intended to work up a sweat with it against one of the servitors. Company was not something she was craving, just an honest session with a dumb machine.

 

It would not happen that way. Someone else had a different idea.

 

“What’re you doing, Naeve?” It was Krukesh‘s lingering drawl that washed over her. She shuddered.

 

Turning to look at the warrior who spoke, she didn‘t bother hiding her irritation. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped.

 

“Messing about with a chain sword, you can‘t call that fighting,” he said.

 

She knew what he was doing, rose to it anyway. “And why not? I am every bit as good as you are. You have scars on you from the last time we fought.”

 

“Are you so sure of that? Have you seen my naked form lately?” Krukesh’s tone made her skin itch.

 

“You make it sound as though I want to see it.” she sneered. “We all know that’s the worst lie you‘ve said this morning. You are nothing but skin and bone, disgusting!”

 

“I said nothing of the sort.” He walked over to the rack and picked out a chain sword of his own. “Maybe you would like to earn some scars of your own?”

 

“Are you threatening me?” Her black eyes never left him as he circled around.

 

“Of course I am, you dim-wit!” he snapped. She was ready for his charge, ready to meet his blade and ready for the predictable force he put into it. The crackle and fizz of sparks echoed as they parted. There was no circling or preamble. The next clash was as furious as the first. Hate for the warrior in front of her flowed through her veins, hot and raw. Twin hearts thudded as she stepped back, brought her elbow up and rammed it into Krukesh‘s chest. She blocked the next blow with her sword and shoved with her shoulder.

 

Krukesh leapt back. Cursing in Nostraman, Synthalia followed, her blade still raised. Too late she realised his feint. His foot snapped out, sweeping away her footing. Not one to let a blow like that decide the outcome, she kicked him in the knee as she fell. Hands grabbed her wrists, weight landed on top of her. “Get off me you lout!” she screeched. She brought her leg up; he blocked it with a knee.

 

“Now, about those scars,” he said. Synthalia leaned her head back and spat. Acidic spittle would never bother him, but the gesture had a meaning of its own. She smelled his sour breath when he sneered.

 

“Now, now Krukesh, she had a worse bite than you’ll ever be able to handle,” came the dulcet tones of the First Captain. Synthalia had not heard him enter the room. A savage heat coloured her cheeks that had nothing to do with the usual reaction to his presence. She had not wanted saving. She had not needed saving.

 

Krukesh looked up, her spit running down his cheek. “Are you so sure you can?” He relented and climbed off her. Synthalia rolled to the side before getting to her feet. She did not look at the First Captain.

 

“Easily,” he replied, “Watch.” Sevatar walked over to her, his huge hand splayed on her firm stomach. He wore the same as she did, simple midnight blue top and fatigues.

 

“Don’t,” she warned.

 

“No?” He leaned in close and ran the tip of his nose over her ear. “I could hear your blood thundering from the doorway.” His teeth followed, nipping at the lobe of her ear. She shivered. A couple more steps and he stood behind her. His eyes never left those of Krukesh. It was when he pressed himself against her, when his cock twitched against her ass, that she knew what he had in mind. She tilted her head, her hair falling out the way.

 

His hand grabbed her thick, black hair, he jerked her head up, so she had to look at him. There was something in his features that had been missing before, something she had not seen. Something primal, it made her growl low in her throat. The fight left her; anticipation replaced it with a subtle shift. Synthalia forced her knees to stay strong. Moisture fled her mouth, she swallowed hard. “You will never handle her,” he said as if he were the sole master of the decision.

 

Her gut clenched at his words. Before she could protest, his mouth bombarded hers. The rough beard on his cheek grazed hers. She liked the harsh scrape. Without hesitation, his tongue forced into her mouth, taking what she usually gave so freely. She did not squeak in surprise. Both hearts hammered in her chest as his other hand wrapped around her neck. He didn’t need to squeeze. He held her in place, bestowed a savage kiss on her. Synthalia was no spectator in the matter; she refused to be dominated without giving back. Her tongue wrapped around his, taking what he gave. His coarse lips rubbed over hers, she wiggled against his strong back, whimpered and struggled to suck in air as the kiss continued. When he finally drew back, she sagged against him.

 

What he did next caught her by surprise. His hot mouth found the juncture where her neck became her shoulder. First, he kissed her, his lips dry. Then he bit. Instead of the nibbles, this was a savage bite, enough to break her skin. She hissed but could not deny the wash of white that flooded her vision. His tongue soothed the wound, her larriman cells already healing the mark. Idly, she thought it a shame.

 

Her hand curled behind her, grabbed his hair and yanked it, hard. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

 

“Ensuring he never does that again,” he replied. Funnily enough, she had forgotten all about Krukesh. He was still watching. Taking his hand, she placed it on her breast, encouraging him to squeeze. Her breasts were not overly sensitive, but that didn’t mean having them touched wasn’t pleasurable. She wiggled her bum over his erection, which was now poking at her soft flesh. His other hand joined in. She too glared at Krukesh.

 

She huffed out a moan when Sevatar’s fingers pinched her nipple through the fabric of her shirt.

 

Krukesh rolled his eyes. “Really?” His tone was flat when he spoke, “In the middle of the training room? You‘re going to ignore Naraka’s instruction?”

 

“That referred to briefings,” she replied. Sevatar’s hand thrust past her waistband, her words fled her.

 

“I’m higher rank than Naraka is,” Sevatar said. His finger brushed through the neat curls at the top of her mound and into the wet depths beyond. "If I say she does this. She does this.”

 

The rough callous of his thumb rubbed against her clit, chasing the agreement from her lips. His mouth once again found her shoulder, teeth raked over her skin. Reaching behind her, she ran her hand along his impressive shaft, teasing the head between her thumb and forefinger. A deft hand yanked the buttons of her fly open. His hand pushed hers away for a moment; she knew what he was doing.

 

A hand on the back of her neck forced her to the mat on her knees. He would do this. Sevatar would take her in front of everyone here. The idea thrilled her. Huge hands grabbed her pants and pulled them down. There was no embarrassment from the action. Just sharp anticipation as it curled in her gut. She ached for him to take her; she needed him inside her, had to have the fullness only he could provide.

 

She heard him rummage about behind her, felt him drop to his knees too. “I don’t need to see this,” Krukesh sighed.

 

“Stay,” Sevatar said, his tone brokering no argument. “Stay and watch what you will never again touch. Watch as I claim what is mine.”

 

Synthalia did not dispute his claim; most of it was true. He pushed on her neck, forcing her forward. His index finger ran over her slick quim. She shuddered and wiggled against him, needing more. “See how she submits?” Sevatar said, “How needy she is. She would never do that to you.” He replaced his finger with his cock and thrust forward sharply. Synthalia yelled out; a guttural shout that betrayed both her pleasure and surprise.

 

Others who were training nearby looked up, but quickly resumed their routines when they realised what was going on. Sevatar leaned over her, his broad chest pressing against her back. His strong arm wrapped around her waist and he snapped his hips. Synthalia spread her legs as much as she could. The texture of the training mat under her palm was rough, nowhere near as rough as what Sevatar was doing to her.

 

The pace he set was sharp. Every impact sent white waves through her. His thighs hit against her bum, the sound reverberating. Each slap wrung a cry from her. Her fist clenched, her eyes screwed shut. She wanted to grasp, to rent, to bite. There was nothing she could do. Synthalia knew this was not for her; she knew it was a statement. It would not stop her enjoying the moment.

 

 

“See Krukesh, see how she moans and whimpers. This is for me, and those I choose, this is not for you,” he said. His breathing hitched as he spoke. He grabbed the back of her neck, his hand curled into her hair, pulled sharply. Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting Krukesh’s. The revulsion on his face was clear. She snarled before another thrust robbed her of thought.

 

The arm around her waist became her support. The muscles in her thighs tightened, her stomach clenched. Synthalia’s knees weakened, her weight fell onto her elbows. Looking behind her, she watched his cock disappear into her. His heavy balls swayed, hitting against her every time he thrust. “Fuck!” she yelled. The white intensified. She screwed her eyes shut. Just as she tipped her head back, just as her back arched, he stopped. All movement ceased. Heat receded. Irritated, she looked over her shoulder. Purposefully, she clenched around him, forcing her muscles to clamp and squeeze his prick.

 

“Only when I say,” was his response. Sevatar leaned down and bit the back of her neck, his bread rough. “Hear that Krukesh, mine!”   


  


His hips snapped. She shouted. Krukesh sighed. He had not moved, though disdain masked his features. "Shall I let her come?" Sevatar asked. The mocking lilt had never left his tone. Synthalia bit her teeth together, fought against grinding them.

 

“Do as you wish,” Krukesh said.

 

He slammed into her. Again and again. Synthalia’s world spiralled out of existence and white took over her vision. The tension in her legs gave way. Quivering, she shouted. Her quim clenched around him, great waves flowed around his cock as her pleasure tore through her. He gasped. A familiar sound cutting through her rapture. She bucked her hips backwards, kept the swift pace going, fucked him back through the orgasm he had granted her. His pleasure now on her mind. It did not take long. With another shout, she had his release.

 

When both had returned from the high. They looked at Krukesh. Once again, the look on his face said more than any words could. “Do you understand?” Sevatar asked.

 

“I believe I do,” he said.

 

“Now, fuck off.”

 

Krukesh was only halfway to the door when Synthalia finally collapsed onto her stomach and laughed. Her body ached from where his teeth had left their marks and where his cock had pummelled her. It was a delightful feeling. Sliding off him, she turned and looked at him. Tension tugged at the corners of his dead eyes, but the white-toothed grin fit the deed. “I don’t think he’ll talk to me again after that,” she said.

 

“That was the point,” Sevatar said. He shoved himself back into his pants and she yanked hers back on. The echo of fighting filled the air, as though they’d done nothing at all. Synthalia did something then she wouldn’t normally do. She crawled over on her knees and wrapped her arms around him. Lightly, he held her back.

 

“You can do that again, any time you like,” she said before pressing her lips to his bearded cheek.

 

“I know,” he replied. She patted his face before getting up. Steadily, she paced across the room and scooped up the chain sword. He got up behind her and picked up Krukesh‘s abandoned weapon. He placed it back on the rack. She glanced around. “Go and practice. I‘ve several meetings to attend.” His words were a command, but not a forceful one. Synthalia nodded. She could find him later if she needed to.

 

“See you soon,” she said. As she strode past, he slapped her firmly on the rear. She squeaked but made no pass at his touch. Some rituals were worth keeping.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sevatar finds creative ways to deal with Synthalia's talking.

  1. Party - Our muses having sex at some sort of get-together



The rumble of the Storm Bird’s engines was of little comfort to the warriors it contained. The drone was as familiar as it was unwanted. The low whine of servo joints and hum of idle power packs was an undertone to the rumble of the more distant engines. The gloom within the vehicle was no trouble for the eyes of the occupants, adjusted as they were to the darkness. There was no decoration on the interior, the seats on which the warriors sat were barely cushioned. Such things did not occur to them so they were not needed.

The warriors within were set for battle. Most of them checked over their bolt guns or simply sat cradled in their harnesses as they rocked towards their destination. Synthalia sat beside the First Captain. Someone had made a grievous error in making them do so, either that or they had no idea what they were like. Synthalia’s squad sat on one side, The Atramentar sat on the other. Down the centre sat astartes who belonged to Naraka, who was sat at the back of the transport. Synthalia was glad for that; after the episode in the briefing room, she had been ordered to avoid the First Captain. She hadn’t listened to a word of it, but the last thing she wanted from him was another lecture.

She had not donned her helm yet, it was maglocked to her belt. She had already picked over the plan several times and knew what she had to do. Getting there to do it was proving to be a little frustrating.

“Katrix,” she said over her shoulder.

“Yes?” the woman said back.

“The charges-“

“Are where they were five minutes ago, they are safe.” Synthalia turned her head around and leaned it back against the rest. Moments later, she turned again.

“Henkei,” she said.

“If you ask me about medical supplies again, I am going to come over there and hit you,” the apothecary snapped.

“I wasn’t go-“

“Yes you were, now shut up.”

She turned back again, aware that she should be quiet and think through what was going to happen. Her thoughts were elsewhere. She nearly started when strong fingers touched hers. Looking around, her breath caught as she saw that look on Sevatar’s face. “Don’t you start either,” she snapped.

“I think you’ll find I outrank you Naeve,” he said. The cool of his tone rankled but she snapped back the retort building on her tongue.

“Don’t you start either, First Captain.”

Sevatar turned around as much as his harness allowed and caught the black eyes of Katrix. “Does she always talk this much before a mission?” he asked. The woman did not respond, but she did nod. Synthalia could almost hear the smirk on her face. Trust Katrix to say something like that. She was about to snap something else when Sevatar spoke again, cutting her off, “Shall I shut her up?”

The murmured agreement from her squad fired her blood. His rough, calloused hand grabbed the back of her neck and squeezed lightly. His thumb pressed into the base of her skull. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. “Now, how do you think I should shut her up?” Synthalia swallowed, her throat dry. She was unafraid. Her solar plexus clenched and wash of heat warmed her blood, quickened her pulse and made her lips pulse.

No answer came, none was needed. Her breath hitched. Without thought, her hand hit the snap release of her harness. His hand pushed down. Nimble fingers found the release catch for the ceramite plate at his crotch. She lifted it and placed it on the floor. Finding herself face to face with his body glove covered cock, she licked her lips. His hand tightened around her neck, shoving lightly. Synthalia did not need further encouragement. Her nose nudged against the body glove, inhaling the musky, warm scent that was exclusively him. Nuzzling his bulk, her hand found the small hole in the fabric. She tugged it enough to slip his awakening cock through.

It would be tight when he was fully hard, there was no helping that. Not too tight, just enough to apply pressure, enough to feel good. Her hand pressed against his abdomen, she licked her lips, moistening them. One thing she relished, truly savoured, was feeling him get hard in her mouth. Without hesitation, she slipped his tip into her welcoming, wet lips.

She was rewarded with a little hiss, echoing off the bulkhead in front of them. Fingers curled into her hair, grabbed her pony tail and squeezed. Good. Her squad would be watching, she didn’t care. Something came over her when Sevatar had her like this. All decency went out of her and she could do nothing except submit to his wishes. It helped that he was pleasing on the eyes, to her at least. The way his lips curled with the scar, the flick of his black hair, even the dispassionate expression with which he viewed the world sent her stomach clenching and her quim flooding.

She pressed her lips into the hardening skin of his prick, his pulse easily felt through the soft skin. The slight flex of his hand said more than words. Slowly, she swirled her tongue over the tip before rolling her lips down over the hood, pushing it back, allowing the hot, wet of her soft mouth to touch the delicate tip. Although she had done this more than a few times, she had never got used to his size. Her jaw stretched to accommodate him. She savoured the discomfort.

Hollowing her cheeks, she suckled on the tip before taking the rest of his hard shaft in her mouth. The sound of Henkei laughing caught her ear just as she started to bob her head up and down in an infuriatingly slow rhythm. Sevatar’s grip tightened on her hair but she refused to speed up. No, if this was being done to shut her up, she was not about to rush. Besides, there was something that set her blood afire when she had his cock in her mouth. Every whimper and twitch was a victory, every swirl of her tongue empowering. She was the cause of this, she had that power and it was something she craved.

The tip of her nose touched the body glove and she hummed. The mild taste of salt touched her tongue. Her hand curled around, her fingers rubbing at his balls through the fabric of the body glove. Synthalia wiggled in her seat, the creeping wet sensation between her thighs not something that could be dealt with now. It could wait. Knowing what it did, she lifted her lips and ran her teeth up over his length. It earned her a delicious shudder, his breath hitched in his throat when she reached the tip. Her tongue took over again and as she lowered her head onto him again, she rubbed at the underside, poking the thick shaft.

The ship vox chimed in, “Three minutes until entering the drop zone.” The metallic tone echoed. Sevatar’s hand tightened in her hair.

“Best get a move on Naeve,” he said. Unable to talk, she hummed an approval. Three minutes was not a great deal of time. Synthalia relaxed her throat then and began to move her head with more urgency. Her tongue lapped at the oily fluid at the tip, her lips rubbed at the shaft, coating him with her wet heat, “Damn, do you know how much I want to fuck your mouth?” he growled. His words ripped through her, the all too familiar ache in her belly fired, the need to be filled. Knowing that they had no time only made it worse. She slid down his shaft, letting him push into her throat.

Breathing through her nose, she bobbed in time with his light thrusts. Her hand gripped his balls, massaged them, toyed with them as her mouth coped with his shaft. The dizzying sensation accompanied with the lack of easy breathing inflated her third lung, set her pulse racing. Distantly, she was aware that if Naraka was wearing his helm, he would see her elevated vitals. It was hard to focus on such cares with his prick that far in her mouth however. Sevatar was her world currently.

“Two minutes until drop point entry.”

She pressed her tongue up one throbbing vein and down the other, moving her head back and forth. She used her teeth to wring more moans from his lips. Her fingers tightened around his balls, which jumped in her hand. His cock pulsed in her mouth. He yanked her hair. “Like that,” he said. Eyes watering, she hummed, knowing her throat would vibrate and tickle the very end of his prick. She refused to stop. Even as she heard footsteps echoing down the aisle.

“One minute and thirty seconds until drop point entry.” The mechanical voice echoed.

She sucked, hard. “Fuck.” The word was shouted out, sharp and clear. Her hair was yanked just as the first shot hit the back of her throat. The second lashed her tongue and she swallowed it with a pleased hum. The rest landed on her face.

A cough drew her attention and she looked around, straight into the hard stare of her captain. She grinned. The cum on her face was enough of a give away of what she had been doing. She ran her finger through it before popping it in her mouth.

“One minute until drop point entry.”

Naraka sighed and shook his head, if his disappointment bothered her, she didn’t show it. “You’re just envious she’s not yours, Naraka. We both know that.” Sevatar said as he refixed his crotch plate.

“Regardless, I don’t want her fucking this up because her head is full of you,” he said.

“Never,” she snapped. “It makes me more determined to survive. You know why?” Naraka sighed and made a gesture that may or may not have been asking for more information. She gave it anyway, “Because he can’t return the favour when I am dead!” That earned her a snort.

“Thirty seconds until drop point entry.”

Synthalia turned and pressed her mouth to Sevatar’s cheek. “Come back alive,” she said. She then scooped up her helmet and fixed it in place. The seals pressurised with a hiss, her thoughts abandoned the pleasurable notion of his tongue on her and returned to the task at hand. The jeers and cat-calls of her squad echoed over their private vox channel, though she made no response. She was not ashamed of what they did, not even a little.


	17. The Hunt

The pounding of her hearts as she belted through the hallway echoed in her ears. Synthalia’s strong legs hurtled her away from those who would want to claim her. The rest of her squad were elsewhere, running from different individuals. They had scattered the moment someone gave permission to run, each choosing a different direction to her sister. They could be anywhere on the ship by now.

Ducking down one of the side chutes, she paused to locate her target. She was the one being hunted; that was the nature of the game this time. An old round that had been played before, but never like this. The consequences of being caught rushed through her mind. She shivered, though it had nothing to do with the cold. Her lips parted, and she breathed in the recycled air. She had tasted her hunter before; she knew where he was, roughly. That was a double-edged sword; he had tasted her too.

He was some way off yet. A rush of anticipation coloured her cheeks, an involuntary smirk touched her lips, and she pushed off the chute and broke into a run yet again. The thought of being caught was delightful, but she would not make it easy, far from it. Too easy and the reward would not be half as satisfying. The run was not taxing, though a light sheen of sweat already covered her.

They played the game without power armour, the hiss and whine of servo joints would serve no purpose in this game. The idea was to be silent, not to get found and not get caught. The thud of her boots echoed off the deck and walls around her. The darkness was no hinderance to her, though some legion’s serfs struggled to get out the way as she passed. One of them she barrelled into. She did not slow, not even when her leg kicked at the prone body. Synthalia did not stumble. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on fleeing the warrior who chased after her.

She darted right down a corridor, thudding down it, determined to get away. This time, when she tasted the air, she did not stop. He was getting closer. Slowing her breathing, she changed her tactic. Running would not be half as much fun as stalking. Concentrating, she slowed her pulse and forced her footsteps to lighten. He would find her through taste but that would give him the rough location, she could lurk and escape. Or so she thought, she did not understand how wrong she was.

They never used weapons in these types of games; the aim was not to hurt, not to maim, merely to catch. Heavy footsteps gave her pause. It was the gait of someone she knew, not someone she expected. She sucked in a breath and pressed herself against the wall. The darkness would not help. Whoever it was could see just as well as she did. There was a small gap behind her. She pressed into it as best as she could. That it was another astartes was without question. No mortal could match a stride like that. It was not the one she wanted to find her.

Resisting the temptation to peer out of the cubby she was using to hide, she held her breath. “I know you’re in there Naeve!” The paper thin voice of Krukesh echoed off the bulkhead. She bit back a sigh. “I have no interest in you. I do not want another demonstration of your ownership.” The disdain was clear in his tone. She smirked at the memory.

“Why don’t you get lost then?” she snapped. Krukesh was ruining the whole thing; she wanted him gone! She had to move before Sevatar found her. The hunt was not over yet. Krukesh had other ideas.

“And spoil the opportunity to ruin your day? Never.”

“It was that attitude that got you that show in the first place. Get out of here before I make you re-watch it!”

Krukesh snorted. She couldn’t see his bony form, but she could see his smirk in her mind. She hated him for it. “You?” Krukesh sneered. “You can‘t make me do anything.” Not for the first time, she wished she had a combat blade with her. She would have stabbed him with it, multiple times.

“I can make you get out the way,” she huffed. Sliding out of the space she crouched in, she strode forward and shoved Krukesh with her shoulder. The taller astartes was slender built despite his augmentation. She hoped she left a bruise on his scrawny hide. At least he made no intention of following her.

“I’m going to tell him where you went,” he shouted at her back.

She raised her hand in a crude gesture, not bothering to respond with her voice. Her mind was already on other matters. Synthalia broke into a jog, needing to make up for the time Krukesh had cost her. Maybe another lesson for the scrawny, pale-faced bastard was in order. The flash of rage burned through her, obliterating the focus she had and forcing her legs to move faster. Her hands curled into fists, determined to power away. She thought she was getting away. She stepped into a corridor that wasn‘t used so often by the mortal traffic, finding it deserted. The coils of engine ducts and pipes hung low, low enough to make her dip her head.

Stilling her breathing, she slowed her steps. She forced her hearts to cease pounding as she picked her steps. Here and there were overhangs that might provide a hiding space if she needed it. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, not her steps. Parted lips tasted him, dark and violent, closer now. The corridor opened out into a large room. Around the outside, more cabling and tubes carrying coolant littered the wall. In the centre of the room were four colossal tanks. They were full of coolant, as far as she knew. She couldn’t see into them. She closed the door behind her and crept over to one tank.

The moment she had ducked behind it, the door opened behind her. Her hearts thundered in her chest, she willed it to be silent. There were no words spoken; she tracked his footsteps as he stalked around the tanks. She could hear his light breaths, barely audible and so familiar. Soon, they would be on her. Not yet. A shiver rocked through her. She held her breath. Stepping around the tank, she knew she had to make it to the door. It was open now, though it let no light into the room. She tracked his steps, moved to avoid them, trying to not let her breathing become too loud. He was close, so close. She could smell the weapons fluid, lapping powder and subtle spiciness that belonged only to him. A shiver tripped up her spine. Her hands shook.

She stepped further around the tank, the door in sight. It would mean a dash, then a run down the corridor, but she thought she could get away. Synthalia paused for a moment. Her thighs bunched. Drawing a final breath, she pushed off the tank and sprang to the door. Too noisy, too late she realised her mistake. She made it to the doorway. Thudding into her back, his huge hands grabbed her shoulders. Together they barrelled into the opposite side of the corridor with a clang. The door they had landed on opened and they crashed to the floor. Synthalia rolled. He rolled with her. Arching into his weight, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Rough hands pushed against her shoulders, pressing her into the floor. Unable to struggle out of his grasp, she gnashed her teeth at him instead. Moving her hands up, she dug her nails into his sides. Squeezed her thighs together around his waist, gripping him. There was more than one way to pin someone. His hand snagged both her hands and slammed them above her head. The ache in her shoulders, the bruising grasp of his hand, wrung a sigh from her lips. His other hand, calloused and hard, grabbed her chin. He forced her to look at his cold, dead eyes, the smirk on his face betraying his intentions. She nudged her hips up, goading.

He broke the stare, taking a glance around the room into which they had fallen. Her gaze followed his. “Where is this?” she asked.

Sevatar moved off her, though his hand kept a hold of hers. His grip altered, and he dragged her up to her knees. “Don’t you know?” She looked around the room. It wasn‘t ornate or particularly well decorated, but everything inside it was huge. The bed, covered in dark sheets, had not been slept in for days. She smirked.

He moved again. Dragged her to the massive bed that belonged to their gene-sire, he threw her down. It was not a soft landing. He was on her seconds later. His weight bore down on her chest, crushing her into the hard mattress. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, staring up at his face. She arched her chest, eager to touch. Parting her thighs, she once more brought them up around his waist. His prick, lengthening and heavy, poked into the underside of her thigh. A familiar ache, deep and needy, erupted in her stomach. She lifted her head, once again biting at him. He was just out of reach. What was this? Now he had caught her. Was he not going to do anything with her? She growled her frustration. Strands of his black hair fell forward, some of them almost touched. Her hearts thudded in her ears, her cheeks burned. Her hands curled into claws, eager to grab, eager to tear. 

Their eyes locked once more, “I will fuck you on our father‘s bed,” he declared. “And I will make sure everyone knows it too!”

“Go on,” she goaded. “Do it. Make me feel that prick of yours.” She clamped his ribs with her knees.

His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was more biting than anything else. Firm lips parted. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, swamping her. For a moment, she could not breathe. Squirming against his grip, she longed to grab the back of his head and fix him in place as they plundered one another‘s mouths. Heat crashed through her, rushing to her ankles. In that moment, her body came alive, responding finally to the touch he granted.

Sevatar‘s free hand fell to her breast, his nailless index finger running over the mound of flesh before his hand covered it. Although they were not that sensitive, she still moaned when he pinched the nipple through the fabric of her shirt. When the kiss broke, he released her hands and tore off her top with a simple gesture. His mouth replaced where his hand was, his lips pressing the nipple between then and his tongue flicking over the sensitive tip. She squealed. Maybe they were more sensitive than she thought.

Now her hands were free, she could tease back. Her nails stabbed into the meat of his shoulder, scored down his back as far as she could reach and then raised back up again. She gripped the back of his neck, pushed into his hair, and pulled sharply. He hissed at her. It was her turn to demand nakedness. Grabbing the centre of his shirt, she yanked it up, removing it entirely and flinging it away. The noise of something breaking echoed. Her stomach clenched when she saw his scarred chest again. There was nothing gentle in her touch. She ran her nails over his fused ribs, waiting for the flinch that said it tickled. Her growled and switched breasts.

She arched again, pressed her long body into his. Reaching down, she grabbed his tight ass. He had an exceptional ass. The gesture reminded her of a first encounter long ago. She smirked. Sevatar raised himself from her. his hand trailed down between her breasts, where there were nails, they scratched. She relaxed her thighs and eyed the distorted bulge at the front of his pants greedily. “You want this,” he said.

She smelled her musk on the air; it would surprise her if he couldn’t. “I hunger for your cock inside me,” she snarled. Slowly, teasingly, he popped the belt that held his pants up. Her eyes glazed as she watched deft fingers deal with the buttoned fly. Wet flooded her pants when his impressive dick sprang free. The purple head pointed directly at her, demanding and insistent.

“How much?” he said.

Her hands worked at the fastenings of her pants. “Let me show you,” she said. Raising her hips, she shucked off the rest of her clothes and kicked them out of the way. Hitching her knees up, she then let them fall to the bed, her thighs parted. Plunging a finger between the neat curls, she coated her index finger in the moisture and then held it up for him to see. “I ache. You are the only one who can fulfil the need I have.” She coated the rest of her fingers with her essence. “Only this,” she wrapped a hand around his prick, “Will do.”

She slid her wet hand over the head of his cock, watching his face. The twitch of his mouth said a great deal.

He batted her hand away, enabling himself to remove the rest of his clothing. The belt he yanked out from the fatigues before he looked at her again. “Put your hands together above your head,” he said. She knew a command when she heard one. Although obedience was not something she was overly good at, when he told her to do something with that sonorous tone, she did it. “Lay on your side, hands up.” He then bound her hands together with the belt.

Synthalia shuddered at his touch. He’d laid himself behind her, prick poking at her ass. His nose buried in her hair, his teeth gripped the back of her neck. Before anything else happened, he leaned over her and clicked a device at the side of the bed. He gripped her thigh, fingers pressing tight enough to bruise. Lifting it up, he then pushed his cock up against her soaking wet pussy. “I want to feel you in my cunt,” she breathed.

She didn‘t see the smirk on his face. He thrust up against her, not entering yet. Teasing. She wiggled, squirmed onto his prick. His grip on her thigh tightened. She stretched her back again. When he moved back again, she shifted a little. This time, when he snapped his hips forward, he found the mark. Synthalia cried out in surprise. “Can you feel that?” he growled.

“Yes,” she stuttered.

He moved his hips back, before shoving forward again. His hand pushed into her hair, pulling the locks. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“You feel so big,” she hissed. He rewarded her with another thrust. “I can feel you throbbing inside me,” she said. His hand slid under her thigh and rubbed against her clit. Sparks juddered through her, tingling in her fingers and toes. She cried out, words failing her. His teeth racked over her shoulder.

“Did I say stop?”

He drew the pad of his thumb over her sensitive nub, but she found the words, “I want to feel you cum, I need to feel you cum,” she hissed. Her words worked. The thrusts were losing their slow, languid approach and turning into something primal. His hand tightened in her hair. The heat of his touch on her clit made her clench around his thick cock. Her hearts pounded, her breathing hitched. All thought of her words evaporated as his hips slapped onto her ass. “Sev. I can’t…” she gasped. She longed to pull his hair, to touch, to feel. The belt bit into her wrists though she did not struggle against it. “Make me scream!” she demanded.

“Whose are you?” he asked. His voice a savage growl just behind her ear.

“What?” she hissed, his words not registering fully in her mind.

“Who is it that can do this? Whose are you?” he asked again. He had stopped moving, and she ground her hips onto his swollen, throbbing bulk buried deep inside her.

“Yours, only yours,” she hissed.

“Louder!”

“Only you.”

His hand slid over her stomach then, holding her in place. “Mine,” he growled before biting her shoulder. His thrusts lost coherency then, turned into primal, savage strokes. Each clap of his hips sent a jolt through her. Every sharp push tumbled her further towards release. She screamed, just as she had demanded. The waves of pleasure rocked through her, twisted her calves, dug into her thighs, and clenched her solar plexus.

“Fuck!” she yelled just as her entire body shook. Deep waves erupted over her, awareness faded as she surrendered to the pleasure he granted. He fucked her through it. Every movement he made, every time they slapped together, another wave made her tremble. She shuddered, the clamp of her pussy around his cock not enough to still his fierce movements. The sucking pull on his prick must have been good. He cried out behind her, a Nostraman curse tumbling from his lips. His cock surged, swelled and released a jet of hot cum, twitched and did it again. The final wash of her release flooded over his cock and trailed over his balls. her chest heaved as he finished with a final shout.

He fell away from her back, onto his and let out a deep sigh. Synthalia wiggled out of the belt that had bound her wrists and leaned into him, her hand resting on his chest. His hand curled around her back and for a long while, they lay there silently. When he finally spoke, his voice was gravel. “You can turn the vox off now,” he said. She leaned up and raised an eyebrow. “That‘s what I pressed, the whole ship heard us.”

She leaned over and tapped it, switching off the ship wide connection before returning to his warm embrace. Synthalia was not usually one for cuddles, but this was not a hasty fuck in a secluded corner or a display for others. This time, she relented and remained where she was. She even pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. The belt fell onto the back of her head, and she grabbed it. It had been a creative use of the thing, one she would save for another time. For now, she was content to lay there and doze. “If you fall asleep, I’ll just wake you up fucking you,” Sevatar said. His tone was light, almost playful in some ways.

“Promise?” she asked.

His lips pressed the side of her head and she smiled. The hand on her back dropped to her ass, and she knew she might not make it to sleep.

 


	18. Pony

Pony - One muse riding the other

The briefing had been interesting, unlike most of the others Synthalia had been to. This one detailed a large city the Legion was going to be assaulting after a failed demand for immediate compliance. The Raven Guard would be working alongside them, which would be novel. There were plenty of doubts in her squad how they would be received by their cousins, however Synthalia had told them they were do to as they always did without regard for the thoughts of others. They all had different roles to play. Her words had not been enough, so half the squad were here in the briefing as well. An unusual circumstance perhaps but Captain Naraka had indulged her request.

For the most part, the girls had been silent. They took in what they were discussing, occasionally throwing in an idea here or there, taking it all in. Most of them had not been present for a briefing before, she usually fed back when she returned.

It was a rather orderly affair; Var Jahan would be pleased. A shame he was currently absent. Injury kept the Captain away. He had caught a bolt round in the back. Normally this would not be problematic, however it had caused his power pack to explode, which was more of an issue. He had not died, but he was currently in a healing tank and unable to attend such dour affairs as briefings.

As Naraka’s words filtered through, she leaned against the arm of her chair. The low tones of her Captain rumbled into a drone and she stopped paying attention. Her girls were listening and if she had questions she could ask them for a recount. On one side of her sat Zoemena, her face, pinched at the nose and wide at the mouth, was fixed on what Naraka was saying. She had pointedly not looked at Sevatar on her left. She leaned towards him but Naraka’s last telling off still echoed in her ears.

All his stern words evaporated the moment Sevatar’s hand touched the back of her neck. Calloused fingers, gentle and firm in grasp, squeezed. His thumb brushed the nape, just at the spot where her hair began and she shivered. A smirk danced about his lips, though his eyes remained the eternal black pits they always were. She swallowed, knowing what he wanted.

Synthalia did not consider herself to be easily swayed or weak; she had destroyed many of the imperium’s enemies and done it without hesitation. She had held to the tenements of her legion and had done so swiftly. She had stuck to her principles and followed orders even when she thought they were ridiculous.

Most of her ability to do what she had been ordered went out of her head the moment Sevatar became involved. He had the uncanny knack of getting her to do what he wanted without saying anything at all. She was no stranger to lust, but no one else inspired it quite so thoroughly as he did.

She did not turn her head yet, though her hand moved, rubbing over the bulge between his thighs. He was already hard, that was no surprise. His thumb pressed a little harder, heat built in her gut. Leaning over, he ran his nose over her ear, though he didn’t nip this time. It did not take a genius to work out what he wanted, the briefing was going fine without them as well, so she was keen to oblige. Nimble fingers tugged open the buttons of his pants and she fished out the heavy weight of his fine cock.

His hand on the back of her neck pushed, not sharply, but insistent. She flashed her teeth at him, patience! Her hand slid over the dry skin to the base. Synthalia took a moment to look around, her eyes met Krukesh’s, who was sat on the other side of Sevatar. He huffed out an annoyed sigh but said nothing. Without further hesitation, she leaned her head down and took his tip in her wet mouth. He didn’t make a sound. She didn’t either, instead she swept her tongue over the head. Finding the slit, she lapped at it too, paying attention to the spots that would make him squirm; spots she knew all too well.

Her other hand gripped him firmly, keeping him still. His shaft was long, thick and she wanted to keep him steady as she focused on the tip. He could fuck her mouth later if he so desired, right now she would work him up instead. He sucked in a breath, no more than a light hiss; she knew the others heard it. She did not stop, working him further into her mouth.

“Why always when I’m here?” Krukesh’s paper voice muttered.

“It’s nothing personal,” Sevatar shrugged, “These briefings are so terribly dull, and she does this so well.” His words contained not a trace of remorse. His hand rested on the back of her head and he leaned back a little. Greater access was not what she had needed, it just meant all of them could see what she was up to. It was N|arak’s huff that made the tips of her ears burn. She also heard the mumbling of her squad-mates, though she did not cease her movements. He swelled in her mouth and she hummed a little. They all knew now, there was no need to be quiet about it.

His balls jumped, touched her hand. Sliding her fingers down, she rubbed at them too. Her tongue continued lapping, teasing and sliding over his sensitive head. His hand tightened in her hair, gripping the strands as she began bobbing her head back and forth. Now that he was wetter, she slid her hand up and down his thick shaft. Ache for him grew in her stomach, the need for him, sharp and cruel, twisted her gut… Later. The thought he might just throw her onto the table and take her sent a shock of lust through her, drenching her thighs. Fuck. She just kept moving her head, willing him to know her thoughts.

Sevatar’s breath hitched as she moved faster. She wasn’t going to slow, the lust clouding her mind wanted him to erupt there and then. It wouldn’t be long. He was twitching already and his breathing had become shallow. She could see his expression in her mind, rapt and warm, lips parted. His grip tightened, she flinched but refused to stop. Her tongue teased the underside of his shaft, she felt him swell, the vein she knew well pulsed. His balls clenched under her fingers and he grunted. There, that noise, just the tone of it… She sucked on the tip, her cheeks pulling on the hot bulk.

There! He threw his head back and cursed, “Fuck!” Seconds later, her mouth was flooded with hot, salty fluid. She swallowed it down, even as it was replaced with more. She didn’t choke, she never did. When she was sure there would be no more, she pulled off him. His hand ruffed her hair and she sat up, straight into the eyes of the rest of the room.

“What?” she asked, “You should be used to this by now,” she added. Naraka did not look pleased. Sevatar did. She certainly felt it, though the creeping wetness between her legs was going to be annoying for a while. Crossing them, she then pretended to pay attention to the rest of the briefing.

***

Naraka’s voice was sharper than ever. His berating was to be expected, though it wasn’t wanted. The tips of her ears burned however when he snapped his fingers in front of her eyes as though she was nothing more than a petulant child. “Listen to me!” he barked.

“Why?” she demanded, “You’ve nothing new to say to me have you?”

It was Naraka’s turn to look aghast. “You are making a complete idiot of yourself,” he said. None of the wind had fled him and she shook her head.

“No I’m not,” she snorted.

“Don’t talk back,” he snapped. “I told you to stop.”

“And he told me not to. I don’t need to remind you who has rank between you. What would you do in my position? Did it ever occur that I might want to do these things as well? That I enjoy them too? It gives me immense pleasure watching Krukesh squirm and Var Jahan squirm.” Naraka rubbed the back of his neck at her words. She could see the ire in his eyes, waited for him to speak further.

“You’re not concerned about their reaction?”

“Don’t come over all worried for my safety,” she sneered, “I can look after myself and neither one of them would get away with harming me.” There might not be much discipline but they’d not reached the point of murdering one another yet.

“And how do you think it reflects on me?”

That caught her attention. “What?”

“It makes me look as though I cannot control those in my company. I asked you not to publicly disgrace yourself and yet here you are, doing the exact opposite.” Naraka said. He folded his arms over his broad chest and looked down at her, “It makes us look weak.”

“I-“

“No, you didn’t think about it that way, did you. Instead you selfishly carried on, allowing the other captains to think I am a fucking fool.” She opened her mouth to argue again but he raised a hand. “No, listen. Don’t snap back. I am fed up of your lack of respect and lack of discipline. I am sick of you making a fool of me. If this happens again, I am reassigning your squad leadership to someone who has the common sense to listen and behaves in a manner befitting her rank!”

Synthalia bit her lip. Not because she was upset with Naraka’s words, though they had struck their mark, but because she was fuming. She also knew words spoken in anger would only make this situation worse. Naraka took her silence for understanding and he nodded. “Go and see to your ladies,” he said, his voice firm, “You leave in twelve hours.”

Synthalia turned and stalked out of the briefing room. She did not stop grinding her teeth as she walked through the halls of the _Nightfall_. Her hearts thudded in her chest, heat turned her blood to fire, and she snarled at anyone who did not get out of her way fast enough. Passing into the hall where her squad was barracked did not make her blood cool any less either. She stalked into the hallway to her room.

Katrix was the first to appear with a smirk on her face, “Do all briefings go like that?” she asked.

“Usually,” Synthalia replied, trying to bury her anger behind a tight lipped smile. Her fists remained clenched at her sides however.

“What does he taste like?”

“Like fucking rainbows,” she hissed. Katrix held up her hands and raised both her eyebrows. “Alright, salty, musky,” she said. “What sort of question is it anyway?”

“Just curious,” Katrix said.

“Why don’t you find someone and blow them to find out?” Synthalia said.

“Maybe I will.”

“Leave off,” Zoemena appeared at the doorway beside Katrix, “She’s been told off and is currently wondering what to do about it. Is she going to heed Naraka’s words and stop slurping on our First Captain’s nether regions, or is she going to go and defuse that anger by repeating her transgression?” In that moment, Synthalia wanted to slap the smug smile from her companion’s face, permanently. She said nothing.

Katrix laughed. “As if she could ever leave that fine piece of ass alone!”

“Piss off both of you,” she snarled. They laughed all the harder. Ears burning, she pushed passed her two supposed friends. Teeth clenched; she left the hall altogether.

She knew where she was going; where she always went when she was pissed off with herself and the world around her. To fight. The practice cages offered little in the way of relief, but she would be able to vent her anger on something until she was calm enough to think properly.

The moment she walked in her eyes locked with the cause of all her problems. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she snarled. She should have turned on her heel and left, found one of the other decks to practice on.

“Unnecessary to ask, isn’t that obvious?” He did have a chain-glaive in his hands and it was the practice cages. She didn’t dignify that with a response, instead she crossed the room and picked up one of the deactivated chainswords. The slap of the chain-glaive struck her shoulder, the back of the blade of course, but the invitation was clear.

“Piss off.”

The cool edge of the weapon nudged against her neck, insistent. “No.” She gripped the haft of the weapon and yanked it from her shoulder.

“I came here to fight!”

“So did I. There are no others here, why not fight each other?” She looked at his face for traces of mockery. His tone was calm, maddeningly calm. She flashed white teeth at him, half way between a snarl and a sneer.

“Why not?” she said, her black eyes finding his dead ones. “Because I’ll tell you why not.” The chainsword in her hand clattered to the floor. “Because we won’t stop at fighting will we? We’ll work up a sweat, you’ll kick my arse and one way or another you’ll engineer it so we’re on the floor wrestling.”

“You wound me, thinking I have such designs.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, “Before anything else, we’ll be fucking in front of everyone again and I’m the one getting her head chewed off for such displays.” She was level with his chest now, though the effect was somewhat lost as he was taller than her. Her hands shoved against him. “I’ve had enough!” To her surprise, he staggered back a small way. He had never done so before when she pushed him. She followed him, pushing again. “Do you know what he threatened to do? He’s going to give command to one of the others!”

Sevatar opened his mouth to say something, she beat him to it, “No. Don’t talk,” she railed. “I’m not done yet! I hate you!” He raised his eyebrows at that. She shoved again, “I hate you for this… this, whatever the fuck this is. I hate you.” Her pitch raised and she knew she sounded like some screeching hellion, but she was powerless to stop the flow of words. This time when she pushed, he stumbled backwards.

If she had been less enraged, she would have realised that there was no way he would have done that by accident. He was far too agile and aware of his surroundings to let that happen. As it was however, she was too angry to realise. He hit the floor with a thump. She followed him down, her fury high. “I hate the way you make me feel. I hate it.” She crawled over him, her knees digging into his sides as hard as she could. Her hands punched at his chest. “Most of all,” she snapped, her hands clamping around his thick neck. “I hate how much I enjoy it. You are a fucking jerk!” she hissed between clenched teeth. Her hands tightened, she felt his throat under her strong grip. He swallowed, her hands only gripped harder.

His black eyes had narrowed, though they were as emotionless as always. “Well?” she said. He opened his mouth to speak, this time she let him. His voice was a soft whisper, barely audible.

Her eyes widened.

“What?” Her tone darkened.

“Harder,” came his hissed reply.

“It wasn’t…” She wiggled her hips and sure enough, there it was. “It wasn’t supposed to turn you on, you bastard,” she said.

He gave her a shrug, “It did.”

Her grip didn’t loosen. Looking at his scarred face, she realised that no matter how many times Naraka told her off, no matter what he threatened and postured about, she would never be able to resist him for long. She cared not if it made her weak, if it made others lose their precious face or what they took from her. Nothing compared to the thrill that was him. The things they got up to, the way he owned her, no, there was nothing better.

However right now, she had him beneath her. She had the upper hand. She did not remove her hands from his throat. “Take your pants off,” she demanded. Lifting her hips, she allowed him the movement he needed to do so. “And mind.”

Hands fumbled nimbly at her waist, tugging them out the way enough. Synthalia was surprised to find that she was wet too. “Touch me,” she said.

“Only if-“

She cut him off with her hands at his throat. “Do it.” His calloused index finger brushed against her wet quim and she shivered. Synthalia did not let go of his throat. Her thumbs pressed into the hollow at the base of his neck, her fingers wrapped around his neck, digging in. His erection jumped against her back. A thrill jumped down her spine as he rubbed at her. His black eyes watched her carefully, devoid of emotion. The small play about his mouth however, the way the scar curled his bearded cheeks into a smirk told her everything.

He slid his middle finger into her, she hissed, and pressed back against his hand. It wasn’t enough. “Oh, just.” Taking her hands off him for a moment, she pulled his away from her. Leaning forward, her mouth crashed into his. She didn’t bother with being gentle, she shoved her tongue passed his lips, taking what she needed from his open mouth. Synthalia didn’t need her hands to guide him, she lifted her hip until she felt his thick cock nudge at her.

She bit his lip as she thrust onto him with a not too gentle downward movement. His hands grabbed her thighs, a hiss escaped him. Good. She didn’t wait, the deep ache in her stomach was too powerful to resist. Her hands grabbed back at his throat, squeezing as her hips rose and fell. Every push on his cock, hard and pulsing, sent waves through her. His swollen head nudged at her, the fluted shape hitting her in a way that jolted every time. Her lips parted, her breathing was far from ragged but a heated moan fell from her lips all the same.

“You hate this?” he muttered, his hips bucking against her rhythm.

“Fuck you,” she growled, her hands tightening further. His skin was hot under her hands. She moved one of them to cover her mouth, not wanting to hear him speak. The glib retort that should have followed failed to appear. Leaning forward, she let her hips and ass bounce up and down on his cock. She bit his chin, ignoring the rough fuzz of his beard as her teeth sank into his skin. His grip on her hips tightened, she wished she had something to bind those hands with. How dare he touch her while she was venting.

She didn’t cease her movements. Heat crashed through her but she refused to stop. Clenching and bucking around his throbbing cock, she poured her rage into him. Spots of pale pink appeared on his white cheeks, she released her hand a fraction. Her hips didn’t stop. Fuck he felt good. Her legs twitched and her thighs tightened. Leaning her head against his broad chest, she drew in a breath before sitting up again. “Sev,” her voice shook as she breathed out his name.

Her looked at her with that corpse grin, “What?” His voice was hoarse, husky and rough. She grabbed one of his hands and pushed it against her clit. The shock sending another jolt through her. Her entire body began to tremble, her breasts jumping beneath the fabric of her loose top.

He grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed, hard, through the fabric. Her hand closed on his throat again. He bucked and she screamed. White light flooded her vision, her entire body tensed and was flung into oblivion. Without thought, she kept up her fast movements. Cursing, his voice washed over her. She must have loosened her grip. An arm wrapped around her waist, sat up and he fucked back. Hard, sharp, violent. When she remembered to open her eyes, she saw him throw his head back and voice his release. The moans were some of the best she had heard from him. Deep, guttural, animalistic. He released deep inside her, each jolt striking her. She grabbed his hair and tugged, her quim clenching around him still.

When he looked at her, she couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face. “What?” he said.

“Next time we’re in a briefing,” she said, her voice firm, though she wanted to do nothing more than cave and grin and smirk, “Next time, you’re going down on me.”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

Comforting warmth surrounded Synthalia as she slept. It was not where she usually slept, normally, she would be wiggling around trying to avoid the lump in her mattress. Comfort was not something her kind craved, so she had learned to sleep with it. Now that it was missing, she found the absence strange, though it did not stop her rest. Far from it.

Dreaming was not something she did often either, but it seemed as though this was a night for unexpected sensations. As Syn dreamt, she found that she was unable to move. Her hands wiggled, and her legs could bend but they were held fast. She didn’t mind. The emotion at the forefront of her mind was that she was safe, and this was part of the dream. A breeze touched her bare skin. Did she usually sleep naked or was that just part of the dream. She didn’t care, it wasn’t cold.

Grass prickled her inner thigh, tickling. Heaving a sigh, she shifted a little only to find her body held in place. She was sure she moaned. The moisture on the grass travelled up her thigh, creeping wetness coupled with heat touched the spot between her legs. Her back arched. Weight pressed her stomach down and she sighed. Hips lifted as warm pressure suckled on her hot quim, wanting more.

She drew in a deep breath and smelled lapping powder, bolter oil and musk. Dimly, her mind registered that those things were not found anywhere near grass. A snort of air and a strange sucking noise jolted her, sparks spread from the point of contact. Dreamily, she realised that she was not being held in place by branches, but by familiar restraints instead. It was not grass poking and nudging at her soft thighs, but the rough beard of the man whose bed she shared.

Opening her eyes, she saw the rapt expression on his face. His nose was buried in the soft curls of her cunt and his tongue. She squeaked as it pressed against the hard nub of her clit, sending fire racing through her blood. Her wrists clattered against the restraints when she moved to grab his head. His long hair tickled as he glanced up, the traces of a smirk on his lips. “Sev,” she whined as another shock rocketed through her. No response came, he did run a finger up and down her slit. She squirmed, he lapped at her then pushed a rough finger into her.

The groan brought her to full wakefulness, and she strained against the bonds holding her. They were tight, strong and not going to be quick to break. Her ankles were in similar restraints. He hummed; the vibrations delicious against her sensitive quim. She flung her head back into the ridiculous number of pillows and closed her eyes. Drawing in a breath, she let it out slowly, willing herself not to peak too soon.

It was futile, another finger joined the first and he pumped them in and out in sharp, confident movements. He had always been confident, especially when doing this. He handled her almost as effectively as he did that chain glaive of his.

Another wave, her back arched. Another press of his tongue; her hips bucked. Another pump of his fingers and she clenched around them. She wished it was his thick cock. His fingers were delicious, but his dick could hit her in places his hand could not. She bit her lip and struggled against the restraints again. Her thighs twitched, clamping against the side of his head, keeping him in place. Fingers of his free hand dug into the quivering muscle. Her vision faded and her stomach clenched. She danced at the edge of release, her breathing stilled, her body slowed. Another press and it would be enough.

It never came.

The only thing that touched her was his hot breath on her quivering cunt.

She allowed herself to draw a breath, then another, and another. She looked down at him. There was no emotion in the dead black eyes, there never was, but the smile on his lips was full of mischief. A small frown marred her brow. She nudged her hips upward but he didn’t resume his attentions, not yet. His long hair, far longer than it had been when they’d been together before, fell about his despicably handsome face. She longed to pull it, sharp. Wanted to bury her hands in it, feel the strands fall through her fingers. “Shall I continue I wonder?” he rumbled. His voice low, thick and full of gravel.

“That’s a stupid question,” she quipped.

“Ask nicely,” he chided.

“Oh please Sevatar,” she said, her tone simpering and subservient, not a trace of sarcasm touching her words, “Please continue.”

“Doing what?” he asked. He wiggled one of his fingers still buried within her for emphasis.

“Please continue sucking on my clit and fucking me with your hand,” she said.

“Such a good girl,” he said. He leaned down and blew onto her clit. His hand began a slow movement back and forth, curling and pressing against… Once more, her breath hitched. Heat flooded her body. Her head fell backwards against the soft pillows. One more circle, one more flick. He brought her right back to the hot point. Fire tore through her. White engulfed her vision.

His hand did not stop thrusting as she clenched around them. His tongue didn’t stop as she bucked and writhed, squirmed and cried out her passion. Her thighs clamped around his head once more, heat washed over her in waves, crashing and carrying her with it. “Fuck!” she yelled as her body relaxed and trembled with the power of her release.

Her stomach quivered as she returned to herself. Her thighs released his head and he crawled over her body, trailing kisses over her bare flesh. He didn’t comment on her scars, he never did. His lips met hers, she tasted her essence on him and sighed. She wiggled her hands and grinned against his scarred mouth. “It’s not enough,” she whispered before licking the seam of his lips.

“It’s not.” A wicked look crossed his face, “But it will do for now.”

She frowned. His prick poked at her thigh, heavy and hot. “But?”

“Later, you can have this later,” he insisted. She lowered her gaze and nodded. Later would be fine. He nuzzled her neck and nipped at her skin, the mark instantly healing. “Now, I’m going to let you go and you can go about your tasks. I will come and find you later,” he said.

“Fine,” she said. He reached up and released the bonds that held her wrists, then released her feet. She stretched, wrapped her arms around his bare chest and nuzzled back. He smelled of sleep, lapping powder and faintly of bolter oil, scents she had come to adore. “Until later then,” she said before scooting off the bed. Her quim still tingled with aftershocks of his attentions, and she knew that was intended, and that she would be feeling them until he replaced them with deeper sensations later. All in all, she thought it a good thing.


	20. Coffee

Synthalia awoke with a flutter of her eyes. Last night had been the first night of rest that any of them had managed in close to two months. Slowly, the daze from her head dissipated, the room came in to focus. There were drapes around the ostentatious bed. It had formerly belonged to the governor of this backwards little planet that had held them up for so long. He had no need of it last night, or any other night from hereon. He was currently hanging from the rafters of the council building, his intestines forming an elaborate macramé display for the remaining inhabitants to see. Not that there were many of them left. The compliance had been as bloody as it had been thorough.

The slick sheets beneath her naked body were far softer than she was used to. On the floor lay two sets of power armour, hastily removed but placed with some care. With less order, two torn body gloves lay half in and half out the bathroom. What lay beyond that door was an enormous room that would have been the envy of their father, if he ever made use of them. The sweat, blood and other grime had been cleansed from both of their bodies, assisting one another with touches that could have almost been called tender. Almost.

They’d been apart for most of the fighting. Clipped orders and barked commands had been the extent of their exchanges until the night before. Aside from a few flirtatious remarks shared over the vox at inconvenient moments, she’d not spoken to him. Last night that had changed. The death of the officials had marked the end of the compliance. The bath had washed the grime off and the dull ache between her thighs reminded her of what else had ended.

Rolling onto her side, the silk sheets barely whispered. The springs were excellent, they had been well tested the night before too. Her companion lay with his face down, arms thrust under the heaped-up pillows. She had thought it excessive but the soft inhale and exhale of even breathing informed her otherwise. The dark smudges underneath his eyes hadn’t faded, the fresh cuts on his cheek were still red, though would soon heal. His thin lips parted, and a louder breath spilled from them. Not a snore, he was not someone who snored but a heavier breath. She reached a warm, calloused palm up and tucked a stray lock of black hair back behind his ear. His beard was rough on her palm, something else she had come to savour the feel of.

His face, scarred and full of cares, held a particular charm to it that she couldn’t put her finger on. Some would suggest that the scar bisecting his left brow and lip marred his features. She found them to be roguish, attractive in a rugged, craggy way.

A memory, unbidden but not unwelcome, flashed through her mind. The feel of rough beard on her smooth thigh as she was drawn from slumber. She smiled. It had been a most pleasant way to awaken. She licked her bottom lip and thought for a moment. It did not take long to make up her mind.

She’d not use her hand, and she had nothing strong enough to bind his wrists with. No matter, she was sure this wouldn’t be a problem. She didn’t need much force to shift him onto his side, a gentle shove against his hip. His breathing remained even, though she suspected he was no longer completely unconscious. He was astartes, the slightest of movement or noise would bring him awake if necessary. The silk fell from his scarred body, his huge hand cushioned his head, he made no sound.

Synthalia slid down through the sheets, the silk whispering over her bare flesh, as scarred as his was. His skin still smelled of the mint fragrance they had shared the night before. She pressed her lips to Sevatar’s bare hip, the slight tang of sweat reaching her. With a smirk on her face, she licked at his white skin, tasting him again. It was a familiar taste, tangy with a hint of salt.

Gradually, she drew her tongue down to his sleeping cock. She lapped up his length to the tip, tasting their previous exertions on him still. It was a delicious undertone to the familiar musk. Parting her lips, she pushed the head into her mouth, rolling back the protective skin with her lips. He pulsed, twitched in her mouth as she idly licked at the head. A nasal hum tumbled from his lips, though he was not awake fully.

Getting him into her mouth fully was never a swift task. He was not small, even half erect, and she was glad to be able to do so without needing to rush. She had done this countless times before, but at least this time there was no audience… that she knew of. No rush, no press of time. Her tongue rubbed at the shaft as she worked him deeper into her hot, wet mouth. Desire coursed through her, it usually did in his presence, but there would be time for that later. Her hand moved up to cup his balls, lifting them as his dick surged in her mouth, growing and swelling as she worked her soft mouth around him.

His breathing shifted; she knew he had awakened then. Maybe not opened those black eyes of his, but she knew he was with her then. He hummed again. His hips lifted and his weight moved, though not enough to pull off her. Her tongue found the slender skin at the base of his head and stroked it. His hand thrust into the tangles of her black hair and held her in place; as if she was going to move away! Oh no, she was having far too much fun where she was. His leg shifted and she pushed it back with her free hand, smiling around him.

A bead of salt leaked from the tip, only for her to lap it away. The hand in her hair bunched it up, gripping it, holding it in a tail and he pushed forward. Her throat closed around him and she swallowed. Then the thrusting started. Slick with her saliva, he slid easily in and out of her mouth. It was never a discomfort. She took what he gave, moving her head along with him, wanting to please him. Heat gathered in her stomach, the ache bloomed as her need rose. This was not for her, this was to slake a very different need.

Her hand shifted from his balls, grabbed his hip so she could move with him. Another bead of moisture flew onto her tongue. Forcing her throat to relax, he pushed deeper. All smelled was him, all she felt was the swipe of his cock as he thrust. He was moaning too, his deep, guttural moans echoed back from the curtains that shielded the stolen bed. She wanted to shout his name, wanted to tell him not to stop. Her fingers dug into the meat of his hip as he thrust, over and over.

He pulsed, his head swelled in her mouth. The slick skin smoothed out, she knew it would be deep purple in a flush that betrayed how close he was. A grunt, another thrust. She felt his balls jump. Fuck. There was a single moment where the world stopped turning, nothing moved, nothing breathed, no sound pierced the air.

The eternal, peaceful moment passed. His tip twitched. Salty liquid flowed into her mouth as he broke the silence with a hoarse shout. He did not pull back, she couldn’t swallow properly. Another jet. She sucked in a breath through her nose. Another spurt. Her tongue lapped at the underside of his prick as the rest of his fluid flowed into her hot mouth. Moments later, the grip on the back of her head relaxed and he let out a deep, warm sigh.

That was when she pulled her head back and swallowed what was left in her mouth. She glanced up at him and rubbed her chin with the back of her hand. It came away sticky. She smirked. “Morning,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, “I’d say that it was rather a good morning,” he muttered. She arched her back, placed a final kiss on the tip of his cock, which showed no sign of relaxing, and slid back up the covers. Pressing herself against his warm body, she wrapped an arm around him. There were not many mornings like this, she planned on savouring this one.


	21. Multiple

Var Jahan’s mouth was nowhere near as tasty as Sevatar’s. Synthalia couldn’t quite work out what it was but the Terran didn’t ignite her desire in the same way. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was far less confident than the First Captain. Not that he was bad at this, he just wasn’t as good. She doubted he’d had much opportunity to practice. Lamora had mentioned a passing fancy for the man on whose lap she now sat a few times about a  decade ago but it had soon fizzed out into nothing.

Maybe it was the fact he was Terran. She had never kissed one before and had no idea whether he should taste different or not. His ethics matched the Legion he had been cursed with, he fought as hard as they did and he was blessed with intelligence enough to keep any differing opinions of their conduct to himself. Maybe he just wasn’t as salty as her Nostraman kin.

Still, the other options were dire. Krukesh was no option at all and there was something equally as revolting when she thought about some of the other line astartes. At least Var Jahan had that fetching scar cutting across his cheek. She had been there when he had earned it at the start of the campaign six months ago. She hadn’t seen Sev in maybe twice that long. She ached for him.

At first, they’d kept one another company with vox transmissions and teasing as was their custom. His section of the fleet had moved on however and those calls had ceased, the distance between them too great to reach one another. She missed him terribly. She would never admit to that, not to him and certainly not to anyone else.

The first part of the separation she had been caught on a campaign, which kept her occupied for the most part. Occasionally, she would see somewhere which would have been a suitable place for them to get off together and a pang would shoot through her. When that venture ended, she had used her hands and old recordings to keep the fires low. It had worked for a time. Then Naraka and Var Jahan’s companies, the Thirteenth and Twenty Seventh respectively, had been called upon to work together on this particular compliance. They had been there six months.

This was the first time back on the _Nightfall_ in over a year. She didn’t even know if Sevatar still lived. It had felt good to be back with the fleet in some ways. It had never been much of a home, but it was as close to a homecoming as she had ever felt. Celebration was perhaps not the right word, but food had been consumed, tempers had eased and she had found herself in the lap of her companion of the last few months, his tongue invading her mouth. She had not bothered to resist. The sound of others doing similar did not escape her notice, however she was busy herself. It had been so long.

His hand brushed against her cheek, then gripped the back of her neck as the kiss turned into something far more exciting than it had been moments before. That was more like it. She had been concerned that there would be no fire behind this, only a mechanical slaking of need that was as boring as it was dispassionate. Her fingers pressed into the thick meat of his neck, shifting a little so she could wrap her tongue around his easier, push a little further into his strange tasting mouth.

No, he didn’t taste nearly as delicious, but he would substitute for now. She could slake her growing lust and leave it there. Sev, if he was still among the living, wouldn’t care. It was likely he’d have found himself someone else to do this with too.

She shifted, moving again so she straddled his waist, her knees either side of his hips. He had seen what she was able to do with her tongue, no doubt he wanted to feel that for himself. If the bulge poking at her inner thigh was anything to go by at least. She smirked as they kissed; she wondered if she still had the knack for it. It had been a while.

Breaking the kiss, she intended to bite his chin and then maybe his throat, when there was a cough. They exchanged a glance before looking around.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be bothered by anything like this,” Sevatar said as he leaned against the doorframe. “But, in light of how long it has been, I believe I’m going to tell you to hand over what’s mine.” His black eyes regarded them both for a moment, Var Jahan first, her next. Something in her gut tightened and she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

Var Jahan patted her hip and a small smile crossed his scarred face. She returned it. “Maybe another time,” he said. She knew then that she would never submit to his attention again. Anyone who walked away that easily was simply not worth her time or effort. Sliding off his lap, she resisted shaking her head as he gave them both a nod and simply walked off. She rubbed her arms, her skin itching where he had touched it.

“You look like shit,” she said turning her attention to Sevatar.

“A pleasure to see you as well,” he replied.

“How long have you been back?”

“Long enough to bathe.”

“And you still look terrible.” Indeed, the First Captain looked as though he’d forgotten to sleep for the last month. Dark circles ringed his eyes and she was sure the scar on his brow was fresh. At least he had neatened up the scruff on his face, maybe. She couldn’t really tell. She had always liked the roughness of it when he mashed his face against hers anyway.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. She was sure he was appraising her just as she was him. His black hair was still wet from the proclaimed bathing. Synthalia found herself envious of the shower. She knew what he hid under the midnight fatigues and top he wore. Maybe a few new scars, but he was still as glorious as he had been before. She knew what he could do with those arms, those thighs, those hands. There was no stopping the increase of her pulse as she remembered. No way of hiding from him that this reaction still happened, that the time apart had only intensified it. Var Jahan had been a poor substitute when she was faced with what she truly wanted.

He closed the gap between them just as she turned to face him properly. Huge, calloused hands gripped her shoulders, fixing her in place. He did not kiss her. “You’re an absolute cunt,” he hissed. One of his hands thrust into her hair, bunched it in his fist, “And you need to remember whose you are.”

A hot shiver ripped down her spine. The pleasurable pain of her tugged hair forced her eyes to look at his face. She saw no emotion reflected there; there never was. There was no corpse-like grin on his face now, his mouth was a simple gash across his face. “I’m going to remind you,” he said, voice calm but with a firm edge. She licked her lips, though found no words to respond with. His grip on her hair tightened, this time she flinched, the pleasure crossing over.

“Ow!” she hissed.

The hand on her shoulder dropped to his belt, which he hastily tugged open. His fatigues followed. Pressure on her head forced her to her knees, eyes now level with his cock. She already knew what he wanted of her, she’d not forgotten that. How could she? He wasn’t completely hard yet, but nor was he soft. She wondered how long he had been watching in the doorway.

All thoughts were driven from her mind when he pushed her head into his crotch. He had showered recently, she could smell the light fragrance of the soap on his skin still. How thoughtful. Opening her mouth, she flicked her tongue against the hooded tip. His hand clenched in her hair. Fine, there wouldn’t be teasing it seemed. She parted her lips further and rolled the hood back with her lips, taking his dick into her mouth. Her hands rest on the floor, steadying herself as she shuffled a little closer.

Once more, it seemed as though he had other ideas. Usually, he let her do the work, let her dictate the thrusts and the pace of this. She had always put it down to him not being overly bothered about what she did, only that she did it. This time however, he fucked her throat. Sevatar was no small fellow, something she had never forgotten, so when he shoved his hips forward she was almost ready for it. Almost.

Synthalia couldn’t protest, her mouth was full. She was able to whimper out a cry and cough around his tip as it hit the back of her throat. For a horrible moment, she thought she would gag. Breathing through her nose, she forced her throat to relax. Her arms trembled under the force of his thrusts, struggling to hold herself steady. All she could do was keep her mouth open, her tongue rippling over his pounding length and breathe. It did not take much for her to pick up his pace, find his rhythm and work with it. Soon, she was able to suckle on him as he thrust.

He didn’t seem to mind the choking noises he wrung from her when he altered his pace either. The grip on her hair never once eased, this was him reminding her, and everyone else present, whom she belonged to. The rush of blood pounding in her ears drowned out the noises of the others, though she knew they were there still. Modesty had never been their strong point and why should that change now. She was certain she could hear someone laughing. She let her teeth rake over his dick as he thrust, he groaned.

His cock swelled and all other thought was washed from her mind. Glancing up, she caught he expression of rapt pleasure on his face. She hummed again, knowing he’d feel that. Another thrust, she coughed again; he’d feel that too. The first pulse of moisture hit the back of her throat, he groaned and slowed, though his thrusts remained sharp and strong. She made another noise, “Stop that,” he snapped, his hand tightening in her hair. She shot him a glare, a dare that said ‘make me’ with her black eyes. She hummed again. Obedience had never been her forte, she was not about to start now.

Sevatar yanked her hair and pulled out her mouth. She sucked in a breath, one she had no idea that she needed. His huge cock caught her gaze and she smirked, until he grabbed her shoulder again. “Hey,” she said.

He didn’t say anything, made no noise at all. He dragged her over to the table. Synthalia grabbed the edge with her hands, not wanting to fall into it when he pushed her down. One hand pushed on her neck, one tugged at her fatigues. It didn’t take long. Cool air touched wet, bare flesh. His weight bore down on her, his chest pressed into her back. His teeth seized her ear, bit down. She shivered. “Mine,” he snarled after letting it go. “No one else. I claimed you.”

He thrust into her, she bit her lip, tasted blood. “Fuck,” she hissed.

“I plan to,” he snarled.

The grip on her neck never let up. His other arm wrapped around her waist and he pounded back and forth. The slaps of their flesh colliding echoed. More laughter sounded. Her hands tightened around the edge of the table. Her legs trembled, her knees threatened to buckle. His pace was relentless, it had been a long time. She shuddered, her gut clenched. Her eyes watered with the intense pressure. “Shit,” she yelled.

“I’ve not started yet,” he said.

His words just made it worse. This was not the first time she would climax today. A couple more of those sharp thrusts and she was gone. She cursed him, cursed those watching and let the pleasure ride through her. He did not stop. His thick cock pummelled her with each stroke. His hand tightened on the back of her neck, fingers dug into her hip; she would be bruised from this. Good.

Sharp teeth seized her shoulder, the flesh withstanding the pressure; another mark for her genhanced physiology to deal with. She wanted to reach around, wanted to bite, to touch and grab. He had her pinned to the table, the only thing she could do was rock her hips in time with his. He was bigger than she, stronger than she, there was nothing she could do except take what he gave her. It had to be enough. His balls slapped against her with every thrust; oh how she longed to toy with that plump, heavy sack. She couldn’t reach. Maybe later. 

She could clench as he thrust. Maddening pleasure accompanied every slap and he kept shifting his movements. Some of them long and sharp, followed by a burst of shorter, strong ones that had their skin clap together in a staccato tune. “Fuck,” she hissed again.

Her cheek hit the table as his hand pressed against the side of her face. She gnashed her teeth at his hand, caught his finger and bit. Her tongue teased the pad, aware that she could have done that to his prick if he hadn’t been so insistent on just fucking her. The hiss of breath showed he was aware too. Her gut clenched again, she screwed her eyes shut. She bucked under him as deep tremors rocked through her. “I’m going to come again,” she hissed.

Sevatar slowed his movements. Still, he did not relent. “Who do you belong to?” he asked.

“What?” she breathed, her head too consumed with the need to cum to focus on his words.

“You cannot cum until you remind yourself, and your audience, who you belong to,” he said. The grip on her neck tightened, a reminder. She focused.

“You,” she hissed.

“Louder!” he thrust sharper that time.

“Ah,” she whined, “You!” she said.

“Remind me again.” Another thrust, another deep shock.

“You.” This time she yelled, “Yours.” She opened her eyes and looked at those who were witness to what they did. Some of them were still entangled with their partners. Katrix looked as though she was truly enjoying the company of Kevark, and she caught Lamora sitting in the lap of another she didn’t recognise. There was definitely sniggering. She shut her eyes again.

“Good girl,” he hummed. He leaned over her again, this time, his tongue caressed her ear before he whispered, “Loud and clear now.” His thrusting picked up again, her solar plexus jumped. This time, her awareness of everything else fell away. The rapid thrusts was all she felt, his breathing all she heard, his movements all she felt.

“Fuck!” she screamed. “Sev. Just you. It’s. Oh fuck!” Her words descended into cries and screams, her pleasure clear to those who remained in the room with them. She bucked and writhed beneath him, wiggled and squirmed, clenched and relaxed. Dimly, she was aware of him cursing. Teeth tore into her other shoulder, but it was no use. He followed her into bliss. She felt his burst over her, his hot, sticky cum pulsing into her. A couple more solid, sharp thrusts and he stilled.

Then he did something she had not expected. His nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck and his lips, so much softer than Var Jahan’s, brushed against her skin. A hidden gesture, none of the others could see them, if they were even still watching. With a slow movement, he withdrew from her. His hand gave her neck a final, gentle squeeze and he moved away. Synthalia straightened up and ordered her fatigues, she noted he did the same, though he appeared to still be hard.

She slid her hand into his, gave it a light squeeze, “Sev, I-“

“I know,” he said, cutting her off. She wanted to kiss him, wanted the feel those soft lips on hers, yet she was content to wait for the moment.

Instead, she leaned up and brushed her mouth against his ear. “Let’s go somewhere, I want to take my time with your cock in my mouth. It’s been too long,” she whispered. The corpse-smile returned to his pale face and he gave a sharp nod. No further words passed his lips, he simply tugged her hand and they left the others to their passions; it was clear theirs was neither slacked nor sated for the time being.


End file.
